We get out on the site only a little after sunrise and make it back in the late afternoon, which is often taken up with artifact washing, lecture, and the business of trying to get the New Mexico silt scrubbed off. The field house is for cooking, reading, and getting out of the rain (if we had any), so most of the time is spent on the porch. We eat breakfasts and dinners outside at our plywood table, 23 feet and 3 inches long (we measured). In our minimal free time, we have so far played some horseshoes, invented a kind of cross-country bocce ball game, and done a bit of reading. The student’s tents form a little village in the back yard, and a lot of us tuck in early, to be ready for an early start. As I write this, a few stragglers are sitting around the massive table, reading and writing letters home. The porch is a little island of light in an otherwise black sea. So far away from city lights and so thinly populated, Mule Creek nights are dark. But in the morning the coffee gets brewed up again, so we reconvene, bleary eyed, and get ready for another day. Camp is starting to feel like home. Here are some pictures.