Our start on Sunday afternoon had us wishing immodestly for the privilege of removing most of the clothing, which we never did or even mentioned. In two words: hot, muggy. Monday we found to be bearable, meaning that with a sweatshirt by day and a heater at night we were uncomplaining.
Then Tuesday came and I was not sufficiently disciplined enough to keep from remarking on the state of affairs, for I wore over my tee two sweatshirts. And a denim jacket. Tuesday night was in the forties, and sitting around inside a camper was much less entertaining than sitting around in my well-insulated properly heated home. We did, though, go with two other couples into Anderson for lunch, a pleasant couple of hours in the car and in the restaurant. But back at the campground we decided as the raindrops started to fall that since we had already paid for Wednesday night it made no difference whether we spent it in the campground or at home, it would cost us the same either way. So we packed up and drove home.
Ah, there is no place like home. Like the comforts of home. Like the heat, the light, the space, the internet access.
But we will go camping again in a few weeks. (Some people never learn.)
Some fellowship, some trail walking, beautiful outdoors.
Wednesday, sitting in the RV looking through
the windshield. Nothing going on.
From the clipboard.