Something From Nothing: The Art and Privilege of Camp Cooking.
This is an the first paragraph of this wonderful post:” It may be noted, at least from time to time, that we do like to get away from it all here at this blog. To pack up a modicum of supplies, and strike off for the distant bush lands of Minnesota’s northern most tier. A locale rich in quietude, and resplendent in its sky-tinted waters and vast elbow room for the soul. Canoe country. A million acre outdoor theater where the lonesome wail of the Loon echoes with impunity through the forest primeval. Where the whispering breezes murmur sweetly amid the lofty, Norway Pines; those magnificent wooden spires that which thrust high into a wild, blue sky. Canoe country. Where the slap of a beaver tail on still waters is heard over a quarter-mile span. Where a nap in the hammock whilst the pine-scented breeze whistles through your toe pits is at last your loftiest ambition for the day. Well you can see why we like it up here. And why it is we very occasionally aspire to get away from it all……..”
From Sarah: Please take a look at the whole post. You won’t be sorry you did. It’s wonderful.
From Sarah: I love to go camping. I wish Danny and I would take off and just go somewhere for a weekend or longer.
My parents took us camping a lot. I have awesome memories of one Easter week. The first part of the week was snowy and a mite cold. Looking back, I don’t remember the cold. I remember the fun we had.
I remember Easter Sunday. Warm. Sunny and Beautiful. We went to an out door service.
Bobby and his cousins and I use to go camping as well.
Now we see campers every day.
I long to be one of them.