In the past, I have been known to go camping in the fall. Usually around my birthday. As I haven't done it for at least 15 years, and since my birthday was on a Friday and was sharing the date with the rapture prediction by Harold ("Wait for it") Camping. I thought the irony was too great to pass up without an observance.
The scenes above are from Bear Creek Lake State Park near Cumberland, Virginia.
While there, some friends came and met me for some hiking and lunch. During our time together, I told them, "You know, there are times when I am doing some menial task at this time of year, like mowing the lawn or cleaning fallen pine needles out of my driveway, that I am reminded I was restricted from doing those kind of things for awhile and I turn them into a celebration as I am doing them. Even though I was absolutely spoiled during that time, the current status suits me fine."
Camping alone in the woods in the crisp fall air, with the scent of fallen and decomposing leaves, mixed in with the smell of a campfire, drinking fresh apple cider and eating camp food, are some of the bits of heaven I see on earth.
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