Cove Point Camo

No one says a word about the walk once we get in the car.  It seems the fresh air here makes people more forgetful.  Or perhaps forgiving.  An extra measure of grace will do that to you, and this is definitely a grace-filled place.  Instead, we talk about the upcoming nuptuals and how awesome the pictures will be by the falls.

We make a quick stop at the Cove Point Crossings Bar, where a group of men in khakis and camo-style T-shirts emblazoned with orange “Cove Point Crossings” on their front and numbers on their backs are hanging out with a handful of young women in various stages of (un)dress.  A baseball team?  An archery team?  A hunting team???  We debate without coming to a conclusion, but soon I settle on drinking team… Whatever they might have been earlier has long been forgotten.

Two beers, a rootbeer and a small ultra, ultra thin pizza later for us and two more rounds of mixed drinks for the baseball/archery/drinking team and their friends, and we head back to our room, eyelids heavy and bodies weary.  We watch a little bit of Leno before the sleep of exhaustion mixed with serenity overtakes Shaina and Bruce.  I take one last look at the lake, glistening in moonlight, and notice the lights of a large cargo ship bobbing on the horizon.  I then finish the last chapter of The Help before I curl up on the loveseat, snuggled under a blanket-sized beach towel (ah, the cool air!).  Soon the serenity of Cove Point brings sleep my way, too.


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