Halfway through my stay, a summer storm blew in. Sheets of rain hammered the RV roof, and I retreated indoors for a few hours, listening to thunder roll. But by late afternoon, skies cleared. I seized the moment: I gathered driftwood, lit a campfire in the designated ring, and invited my neighbors to join.
We passed around s’mores (graham crackers, chocolate squares, marshmallows) and swapped stories—where we came from, favorite campouts, travel tales. Someone offered a simple recipe for skillet cornbread (self-rising cornmeal, milk, egg, butter) fried in cast iron, which I tried right there over the coals. It was rustic, gooey, glorious.
The rain had gifted us this communal evening under a sky emerging red and gold. Even storms feel welcome in a place like Blue Lagoons.
