Ah, my tent.
There's something wonderfully familiar and comforting in seeing the old friend, my home, appearing from the saddlebags. Once up, there's suddenly something familiar, a piece of the world that's mine, my home, in the vast sea of unfamiliarity. There's little to beat zipping up the tent, disappearing into the sleeping bag and settling down for the night. Lovely.
and then, you stick your hand through a create a 2 foot rip?
ReplyDeleteMike, it's Sunday night. Just back from evening service and still no new blog article (thats 2 days!). Has that bear got you???? Or no signal? Hope latter.
ReplyDeleteHi Mike,
ReplyDeleteGreat to hear you've made it and haven't been eaten by bears or gunned down by someone who doesn't call 911.
I know EXACTLY what you mean about the tent. It is your constant, your home from home and will become your best friend if it isn't already. Good man! Keep it up
Dave
Wish I was there. AS for the birds, they've probably just got enough room to keep out of human's way. Anyway will be more exotic thatn the kestrels & buzzard, which is all I saw in Devon.
ReplyDelete