When I was a kid I went to camp every year on a lake in rural Oregon. We spent our days rowing in canoes, swimming, and jumping off the dock. The camp counselors wore matching faded green polo shirts with the camp logo on them. The bunkhouses were made of cedar and were full of beds with Pendleton wool blankets.
Now we use these blankets when we stay at our one-room cabin in the woods. We have a big one for the bed and a couple of smaller camp blankets that we wrap up in at night when we sit around the campfire eating beef stew that we cooked in the big cast iron pot. Over the years they’ve earned a few holes that we have lovingly stitched up.