Camp? Camp? Did I hear the word 'camp'?
I miss my tent. Or on good nights, my tarp. Or on great nights, just the sky.
Me, too. I haven’t been camping in a long time. It’s much less fun with infants and other small offspring.
The Boy Scouts are going to the “Virginia Creeper Trail,” a bicycling outing on a converted railway line. It’s downhill ;-). I don’t know where they’ll be camping, but they’ve been there several times.
Back in The Day, we slept (in the summer) on Dad’s tarp, under the Rocky Mountain Sky. Of course, that was when Skipper-the-Dog borrowed my glasses on the “No-Return-Plan” until my mother said: “SKIPPER! You go find her glasses NOW! And don’t come back without them!”
He brought them to me (I was 12 years old) dropped them at my feet, and groveled.
Our town was too small for Girl Scouts...