The atmosphere is thick with humidity- the smell of sweet pine and warm oak is swept over the water and across the fields. Along the small dirt road, deciduous trees tip their leaves to show the undersides. In the distance, a low rumble of thunder rolls along the hilltops. Everything in the field by the camp has stilled. Huge raindrops intermittently splat on the open maple trees, plopping and rolling along the intricate leaf veins. Then they come, more and more to join a chorus of steady rain. Soon the rain is pelting everything it hits, and pouring down so heavily that all other sounds are muted save the steady hush on the roof.

Shawl is worked asymmetrically from tip to side, with selvedge edges of ribbing built into the right and garter built into the left.