We arrived just before a Sunday, and by our second Sunday, I felt settled enough to treat it like a “church-of-nature” day. Morning: coffee, walking trails, bird calls, silence.
Midday, I decided to bake bread in our little RV oven. I made a simple no-knead loaf: flour, water, yeast, salt. Let it rise in a bowl covered, then baked it in a dutch-Oven–style pot. The aroma filled our small kitchen and drifted outside.
We tore the warm loaf with butter and dipped it in tomato basil soup (canned tomatoes cooked with garlic, herbs, a dash of cream). We ate near the picnic table as sun warmed our shoulders.
That afternoon, we joined a quiet yoga/stretch session someone hosted in the clubhouse. Others attended; mats laid on tiled floor, sunlight filtering through windows. Afterward, we walked to the butterfly gardens just behind the resort, watching winged patterns, listening to humming wings.
Evening: grilled vegetable kebabs, grilled tofu for me, and grilled chicken for my partner. Dessert: grilled pineapple slices with cinnamon. We sat at the picnic table, reading, laughing softly, watching lights twinkle in neighbor sites.
That Sunday felt like a pause in time, the kind only possible when you let the place breathe with you.