To me, "camp" means a summer place where kids go for a few weeks. For my wife's family, it means the family cottage on Groton Pond, VT.
The cottage was built in 1918 by my wife's great-grandfather. It's rustic (the bathroom went in sometime in the 80s, before I started going), and the interior walls are plywood. When something's ready to be replaced, you bring it to camp: furniture, cookware, etc.
For the first few decades after it was built, you took a train with a summer's worth of belongings to the south end of the lake, got your rowboat out of storage, and rowed 1.5 miles to camp. So you're looking at the front door - the back door faces the road that we use now.
Most of the front yard on the corner you can see is blueberry bushes. I'm the designated piemaker. As long as someone picks 4 cups of berries, I make the pie. We also enjoy blueberry muffins and pancakes.
Basically, camp is the most fantastic place to spend time with family.
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