I went camping this weekend in Taconic State Park in eastern New York. It wasn’t my first time camping in weather this cold, but something about the cold strikes fresh every time. It had just rained for two days, so everything was damp. It was hard to get a fire started. It was hard even to light the little camp stove that burns twigs and leaves and kindling.
Oh, and we had two dogs with us. A tent big enough for all of us, but of course big tents don’t hold in heat very well. And the dogs would freak out from time to time and run around the tent or paw at our faces or crawl in under the covers or just sit awkwardly on our legs, trapping us until they could be persuaded to move.
The tent was on a slight slope, and sleeping bags are slippery, so by morning we had slid down off our camping mattresses. The bedding was all tangled up, which made us a lot less warm. And I’m pretty sure the dogs chewed on a couple of corners of the down comforter. There were feathers.
I want to go back to Taconic State Park and take my time driving the back roads. Tall trees, hills, the high falls, a river that runs so clear you can see every stone at the bottom. Most of the trees are bare now, but a few are still clinging on to yellow and deep-red leaves. And the evergreens are, of course, still deep green.
(I brought my camera with me, but I forgot to bring it hiking today. So: no photos until I go back. Which is one reason I want to go back. Plus, the bike trail was begging me to bring my bike.)
Anyway, that is the story of my weekend. Which is all the blogging I can muster. I’ve got a hot shower to take and a warm bed to curl up in.