Some of the comments on this photo, snapped on recent campout, observe that the fire looks like a barking dog. Or a coyote. I didn't see coyotes, but I did hear them barking off somewhere in the dark distance. I saw deer tracks in the mud covering the trails and I saw wild turkeys who seemed tame enough wandering the camp sites. I saw a tarantula who was the size of my palm and I heard something scratching in the gravel of the campsite. By the second night I was too tired to notice.
Turns out I love tent camping. Nobody could be more surprised about that than I. I like that you not only get to see things differently then you do from your usual places or even a hotel balcony, but that you are immersed in what is going on around you. I sleep well. Mostly. If I do wake up during the night it's because I sense my dog is contemplating licking my face or something about the cot isn't quite right. I don't wake up with my heart pounding. I probably feel safer out there than I should, but the camp grounds are invariably full of airstreams and fancy pop out RVs pulled by big trucks driven largely by men who discretely indicate their willingness to have served the country.
I like it out there so much at dusk when the hush falls and just for those very few moments darkness is barely an expectation. it feels like just a second later it is dark. Velvety dark and ten degrees cooler. I love it when the night insects begin to call and I listen hoping to hear an owl as well. Then the stars. I'm always looking for "the first one", but it seems like a few appear together, and more later and later, and I wonder if that's the Milky Way or just a high veil of stratus crystals. I think about that dust mote and the Pale Blue Dot. We leave the top off of the tent and I enjoy waking to notice where the moon has flown to while I snoozed.
1 comment:
lovely
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