June 20, 2024. All was calm and quiet at Coniston. Staff Week had gone off without a hitch and the grounds had never looked better. Finishing touches were being made in preparation for the first check-in of the summer in less than 48 hours.
As staff milled about tending to their duties, clouds quietly replaced the sun. Moments later a breeze came rustling through the leaves and an unmistakable smell filled the staff’s nostrils. A storm was brewing.
Before you could Class-A-Clap rain pelted in sheets and thunder roared. The wind howled with fury. Staff bolted for shelter and the roll of thunder became the crack of lighting. From windows and porches staff watched as the first branches, then whole trees started falling. With visibility down to less than a few dozen feet everyone sat and waited wondering how much damage nature had wrought.
In the soggy aftermath staff got their answer. Branches and leaves were everywhere. Trees had come down from Boys Waterfront to Girls Camp. Benches were blown over. Personal items were strewn about. John McNair’s sunglasses were slightly askew.
For a moment no one said anything. Then, as if a silent starting gun had fired, the work began. Staff assembled in the dining hall and tasks were dolled out. The maintenance team geared up and got rolling with chainsaws in hand. In the rain and in the sun, staff put camp back together. By the time the first cars rolled onto the A-Field nary a sign of the storm remained.