And so we go. Dropping the Son off at surf camp is an excellent excuse to camp somewhere along the coast. Because of Aged Cat at home and the promise of hot weather (to cause destruction to potted garden plants), we won’t stay more than a night or two…easier now with the teardrop.
Until our return, I leave you with a camping poem.
the cold clear water of a mountain lake
now sharing the cup around the campfire.
The temple walls
frogs and dragonfly wings.
Feasting on the
sticky sweet manna
of melted marshmallows.