Breathtaking, simply breathtaking in every way imaginable. From the crystals that pierce the nighttime sky or the fresh pine winds humming through the echoing giants. Giants, they tower over you so stoic, so aged yet trembling in your presence with such beauty, putting on a show with you as their only audience. Breathtaking.
My favorite camping memory, it's so beautiful, vivid -- more so than any photograph could ever capture. It was a swing, this old, rickety piece of aged timber and when you looked up into the trees, there were these rusty wires dangling down holding you afloat. The sunlight sprinkled through the leaves of the trees and the sunrise danced in a rainbow palette as the swing was perched on this hill. This little hill, with swaying gold fields that were lucky enough to indulge in the sun's rays. My uncle made that swing, this simple contraption of wood and wires that brought my cousins and me so much happiness. He would start at the top of the hill . . . I'd hold my breath and count 1, 2, 3. And he'd take off, I'd go soaring into the trees, the sky, and I'd fall into laughter.
Scratch that -- that is my favorite memory of beauty, of this Earth and what is offers. It is this moment of euphoria that makes me appreciate the Lord and the gifts he has graced us with.
My favorite camping memory, it is so difficult to decide between the mud fights, losing myself in a story, or spending hours debating in my mind whether the campfire was the color of a burnt sunset or a shimmering amber with sparks of indigo. Honestly, I couldn't decide my favorite camping memory -- there are just too many simple times I treasure. Have you ever had to take a bath in a tin tub meant for dirty laundry? I did and I loved every minute of it. Maybe it's spending my Thanksgiving in the middle of a desert. What I thought would prove to be some barren wasteland held a hidden gem, an oasis in other words.
It was a creek, and like I said the time of Thanksgiving, so the leaves were bursting with Fall colors. In that time, the leaves change, they fall victim to the changing weather and scents of pumpkins. I was just on a simple walk, and I found this oasis -- a stream trickling along smooth stones and above falling leaves. I pictured myself just sailing away on one of those leaves, so gently falling into the current and being swept away. Sunshine glimmering through the treetop made the evening one to truly be thankful for.
Camping . . . This, this is camping. These simple little moments of getting caught in a beautiful memory of golden dandelion fields or dancing in a moonlit stream. Camping is pigging out on some of the most delicious food slapped on a skillet roasting over the campfire and chasing your pup through the forest because they saw a damn squirrel. It is snuggling in your sleeping bag and playing card games because you were snowed in.
Camping is an old past time that I wish I could take advantage of more often. Appreciating nature and exploring the forest, it's an escape like no other. Walking among the sleeping gentle giants, that is a gift of God.