This weekend was only the third time we've been out to the woods this year - we're usually more of a 8 or 10 times a year sort of couple, but the weather hasn't been forgiving this summer, and 105 is really hot, even if you are in the shade and have a small river running next to you. Fall camping, though? Fall camping is where it's at.
The temperature didn't get much above 60 on Friday, and I don't think we saw a number that high yesterday. Last night, there was a chance of frost. We coped the best way we know how - a huge fire, warm clothes, two sleeping bags zipped together with a thermal blanket in the middle...and rum and hot cider and chai tea. And cuddling. Cuddling helps a lot.
Finn, of course, found something dead to roll in within minutes of our arrival - he explored and smelled all the stinky things on the farm while I tried in vain for nearly an hour to start a fire with a mini Bic lighter, dry leaves, corn husks, and pieces of a stick I'd broken up. Nearly an hour I spent on my knees in the fire pit, lighting and blowing and burning and cursing. "This would should be easier with some fire-starter-stick-things," I muttered to myself. And a lightbulb went off - had I seen some of those in the trunk of my car? I pulled the bedding and our clothes from my trunk and rummaged around ("Oh, there's some cardboard - that'll burn.") - and then Jackpot! A nearly-full box of fire-starter-stick-things! YAY! Within minutes, I had a blazing fire going...just in time for Karen and Gary to pull in and compliment my handiwork.
Jimi showed up an hour later, loaded up with about half the Wal-Mart store in his truck. (He'd stopped to pick up a few necessities on the way up - necessities like an extra sleeping bag, food, new camping dishes.) With the fire raging, each couple took to assembling our sleeping places - Jimi and I had left our tent up since July, so we only had to blow up our bed and get it made. Karen and Gary got to setting up their tent and discovered it'd been wet the last time they'd packed it away...there was mildew and mold along all of the window screens, and the smell was ripe. Their bed, too, had suffered some damage from the dampness, but they had a clean sheet of plastic that would protect their bedclothes from the mold, so they flipped the stained side to the bottom and vowed to trash it after the weekend.
The rest of the weekend was uneventful the way a good camping trip is - we stayed up late stoking the fire and catching up on the things life's thrown our way since the last time we were there; we prepared and ate meals together; Jimi played his ukulele, I read the newest-to-me Charlaine Harris book. Finn and I took walks around the corn.
Here, I took some pictures:
|Sunset, heading to camp.|
|He was watching the moon.|
I was driving 70 and should not have been taking pictures of my dog.
|Karen found a big ass spider.|
|The sun painted this on the inside of our tent.|
|Pal's Diner, Palmyra, IN.|
The entire place is decoupaged.
|The road into camp.|
|The same corn.|
|Gary brought fireworks.|
Someone on the other end of camp did too.
It was a fireworks war.
I only took this one lame picture.
|More fucking corn.|
Don't let that sweet face fool you.
He's a vicious killer.
Good times. And now, there are coolers to be unloaded and clothes to be laundered - Happy Sunday!