Unable to stand the suspense, Arnessa broke out her laptop and logged in from the kitchen to get the latest update on Bridget Jones' Diary.
Saturday night lasted into Sunday and the morning found us all looking as though we had spent the weekend at a splendid slumber party. Everyone wanted coffee and no one wanted to leave. A few hardy souls ventured to the dining hall for a final breakfast. The rest of us made and drank pots of coffee in the Lodge common room.
Thanks to Janet who refrained from homicide although she had threatened bloody death to anyone who snored within earshot.
We gathered for some final pictures: The group photo that was missing Kathleen (Kaf)who had gone to San Francisco on Saturday for a web conference, Paula Lovejoy who had to return to Boston, and Candace who had just got out of the shower and was hanging out of an upstairs window with wet hair.
Name tags had been drawn for door prizes throughout the weekend and we had a hard time finding someone who didn't already own the grand prize, The Six Tape version of P&P2 donated by Terese
The alumnae of Bluemarble gathered around Amy and our Craigville Blue Marbles for a picture.
As we were preparing to take the Bluemarble picture, Arnessa came up with a handful of wildflowers. "These are not from the hothouse"
Later, as we were leaving, we took the opportunity to snap some pictures of the Pushy Broads of Persuasion and The Three Bad Sisters.
No one left without a loaf of Friendship Bread from Janet who had baked 30 loaves and hauled them from Chicago in shopping bags.
No one wanted to leave. There was much lingering in the doorways and the driveways as good byes were said and hugs exchanged. Jane valiantly organized the trips back to Boston. Myretta and Hil closed all the windows and did a final room check and we all left.
On the way back to Boston, the convoy led by Myretta got stuck in the Sunday traffic jam leaving the Cape. A glance at Lynn's car showed us Jenna holding up a big sign: "We blame Jane". And we're sure Jane blames herself.
Pemberley's second annual meeting was an unqualified success. Thirty one women left Craigville with more memories than can be recorded here. Mine included Hil's incandescent smile, Amy's soul-satisfying naps, Ann2's sweet embrace, Carolyn's mischievous grin as she recorded all our foibles, the invisible Nan expanding our vocabularies, the Candace "Look", Janet's bottomless ice cream cone, Darlene discovering the treasure trove of romance novels on the Lodge bookshelves, Erin exhausted from her trip but happy in her blanket, Laraine's happiness at finally finding us, Jane's reluctance to end the weekend, Arnessa's giggle, Kate's exasperation, Cheryl's laugh, Jenna at the piano, and the enduring joy of finding myself part of this community of extraordinary women.
The lush green of the wettest summer in a hundred years;
Of tidal marshes where water birds wade,
And boats drift alongside spindly wooden platform bridges;
Of swathes of waterlily pads in Lake Elizabeth,
Highlighted by occasional delicate white lilies,
Or the activity of swans and their cygnets.
The soft blue-grey of misty dawns and overcast skies;
Of our lodge, edged with white windows and railings
And the graceful avenues of old shingled houses,
Of the flat calm sea lapping Craigville beach,
And the possible distant islands on the horizon;
Of the clear depths of alert daydreamer eyes.
The affirmation of finding friends true in essentials;
Just as dear, indeed more so, in reality.
With only a momentary and slight stretch of the fingers
The glove fits the hand comfortably, perfectly,
As anticipated and hoped for, adding
The pleasure of outer appearance to the inner essence.