Last night's low was 45 with mostly clear skies framed by fantastic crescent moon on the south side and the lights of Pigeon Forge on the North, giving way to an opalescent sunrise smudged with violet clouds, which quite inspired my soul, giving way to this lengthy post (for which I do not apologize).
The sun has been teasing both the crew and the hikers, appearing for 20 minutes, hiding behind clouds, then reappearing after we have lost all hope. It is the perfect weather for a Bronte novel.
Flocks of small birds have taken up around camp, annoying the squirrels to no end, prompting them to yell at me quite a bit while walking around camp, making it seem more like home.
Lodge Lurker filling in for Ruthie signing off.