Adult Arts and Crafts Camp?

In August, my husband and I traveled to Western North Carolina for a long weekend spent with his newly found biological family. We stayed in a hotel perched on the shoreline of Lake Junaluska, a scenic locale known for its breathtaking views of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

On the second night of our stay, I spotted a group of 12 or 13 people — women and men — huddled together in the lobby with yarn and knitting needles in their laps. Their hands worked as they talked and laughed.

For a split second, I wanted to sit down with them — join them for a few minutes and revisit the days of my youth. From crocheting to macramé to sewing to ceramics to painting to woodworking, I have always loved arts and crafts and the act of creating things with my very own hands. But since I’ve been an adult, I have found myself short on time to do such things, and I find myself dreaming of the time when I can, once again, sit down and let my creative juices flow.

Remember those blissful school days when all you needed to be happy was a stack of colored construction paper, some tiny scissors, glue paste, and a box of Crayola crayons with the sharpener in the back? As kids, we were fearless artists. Somewhere between earning a living, balancing checkbooks and trying to fold fitted sheets and make sure that dinner is on the table at a certain time each day, we have lost that sense of creative abandon. But I miss those days!

“You know what I think?” I asked a friend last year. “I think someone could make a fortune if they hosted a summer camp for adults — a campsite in the woods where adults could get away for a few days. It could offer gourmet meals, adult beverages in the evenings, and arts and crafts instruction during the daylight hours. I’d sign up for something like that in a heartbeat!”

My friend nodded in agreement before saying, “Oh yeah, I always loved doing arts and crafts at summer camp. That might be a winning idea…” So picture this: A sunny lakeside camp, where adults of all ages gather to create macaroni masterpieces, weave friendship bracelets, and make mosaics or hideous papier-mâché animals. My camp would be grownup craft time, where we can let our inner 8-year-olds run wild without worrying about spilling glitter on the living room carpet. There would be no deadlines, no wi-fi, no Internet, no emails, no drama — just the soothing sound of scissors cutting through construction paper and the satisfying “pop” of a hot glue gun.

Mornings could start with paintand- sip sessions (mimosas, obviously), followed by workshops on the forgotten art of making bracelets from cordage. For the more advanced crafters, we could offer tiedyeing or macramé. And for those who just want to relive their elementary school art class glory days, there would be endless supplies of poster paints, glue, glitter and pipe cleaners.

It could be a full sensory experience — a return to the days when the biggest dilemma was whether you wanted to paint your clay pot to be sky blue or sunshine yellow. The camp counselors (or, art instructors) would keep things light and fun, with crafting challenges like “Paint a Portrait of Your Pet Using Only Finger Paints!” Spoiler alert: Everyone’s going home with a gold star for participation.

At night, perhaps we’d gather around a campfire, roast marshmallows swap stories. In this magical camp, adulting would be a distant memory, and the only drama would continued from page

be whether or not someone took the last piece of construction paper.

So why hasn’t this camp already been invented? Think of the joy it would bring! Adults like me desperately need a space where we can reconnect with the pure joy of making something, even if it’s a little wonky or uneven. Because, let’s face it, life is a lot like a craft project — it’s messy, colorful, and never turns out exactly as planned. And that’s what makes it beautiful.

So, if you’re reading this and nodding along in agreement, it’s time to petition for an adult arts and crafts camp. I’ll be the first investor, and/or camper! Let’s gather our glue sticks, scissors, and markers and relive the best parts of childhood, one glittery masterpiece at a time. Who’s with me?