And the knitting is still standing!*

Saturday afternoon at Squam was our free afternoon.  The lot of us at Pine Ledge had talked about napping or taking a hike, but because the weather was so clear and sunny and our dock had finally dried off, we all eventually made our way down to the dock to sit.  We sat and knit.  Or we sat and embroidered.  Or we sat and did nothing.

As my legs dangled in the water, I noticed that eventually the seat of my jeans was wet.  I figured it was because I had been moving around and denim, like most fabrics, eventually wicked some of the lake into itself.  Or it could have been the local fisherman out for a cruise through eel infested waters we frightened off with our overly friendly hello.  (He did eventually get us back, as he sped off and the wake from his boat almost swamped the deck.  Another reason for my wet pants, and an excellent use of the universe foreshadowing what was to be.)

I'm not sure how long we sat.  An hour.  Two.  Long enough that a couple people eventually joined us.  So there we were, eleven of us total, enjoying a beautiful afternoon.  At one point I looked at one of the dock posts and said to Amy, "That post is leaning at about a thirty degree angle."  About three minutes later we were sitting in chest high water.

That smudge on the picture?  That is a drop of water.  My camera was under water for a minute or two while I 1) figured out what was going on and why I was sitting in the water, and 2) grabbed my knitting bag and held it above water level.  (I knew the camera was waterproof to a certain extent-- the reason I bought was a trip to an area where it rains a LOT-- I didn't realize I could dunk for an extended period of time and it would still work.  Love it even more now.)

Grabbing the craft supplies was everyone's first instinct. Knitting held aloft we waded through what was left of the dock. 

Luckily no one was hurt.  One person lost their cell phone, and another lost a pattern (handwritten and designed by her, so irreplaceable) but that seems to be the extent of it. 

Some people asked how many people we had on the dock.  To this I say, don't build a thirty foot dock if it can't hold eleven women.  Just sayin'.

*Title courtesy of Bill Murray in Ghostbusters, slightly modified for my purposes.