Camping conjures up all sorts of images, many of them wonderfully whimsical.
There is the early morning sounds of birds chirping their musical wake-up calls. Or the delightful sounds of children raring to get a head start on their vacation day. If one listens very carefully, there is the sound of the lake’s waters brushing the crisp shores, or even the gentle swaying of trees in the nearby woods. In the distance a lonely train whistles and slowly the campground comes alive. Outside my sleeping place, there is the scurrying of chipmunks playing in the cool ashes of last night’s campfire on their search for some meager scraps. In the darkened confines of my camp bedding, I look over at my still sleeping mate and wait for the sounds of morning to hit our own campsite. Ben & Jerry, our canine camping mates, are still snoring softly in their bed. By the time the coffee smells waft throughout the campground, we, the retired 60 year olds are still stealing another few moments in our oh so cozy little nest here on our 37 foot Class A Motor Home in our King size Sleep Number bed. As the greetings of another fine day are echoing around us, we bestir ourselves enough to have a shower and begin yet another day of excitement and adventure. Gathering outside with my tea and still in my robe and slippers, I marvel at what fun it is to “rough it” here in the wilds of New England. I wave at a couple returning from the outdoor shower center and smile cheerily at children drawing in the sand by the lake. A young girl squeals in delight as she, with her proud dad watching, pulls in her catch of the day from the cool waters, a lovely perch which perhaps they will fry up for breakfast. By now our dogs have to be coaxed from their beds for their morning constitutional and Ray drags them across the park.
Oh these are the times of our lives.
Retired and really quite lazy.