The Long Weekend

Not the play by Norm Foster. That's packed up in dry dock, waiting to move to Port Dover, and then to Kincardine.
Nope, I'm talking about camping on the long weekend. Each year we go to Ameliasburgh Museum for their opening weekend, and are part of a black powder rendezvous. Well, not much black powder actually, but lots of buckskinners, and some French Indian War people, and some suttlers... And a potluck, and some games, and a lot of old friends.
The toad who had to move a few yards when we dug our firepit.




Some of the camps.





Pete, being stylish.



Darrell in the blacksmith's shop, looking a lot like the Paul Calle print.




One of the children, and two of the fellows in earnest conversation.