Gone native

It's been one full week here at Hither Hills State Park. We set up camp last Sunday after a long drive out east. Then, the rain hit. But we dried up the puddles in our tent, re-staked a few lines, and waited for the sun to come out. It did.

Today is my last full day here. We (me, Michael, and Dad) are heading home tomorrow. We have commitments to get back to. I'm sure I'll be happy to see my lovely home again. And Jess and Elizabeth. And yes, Owen, our old cat. But honestly, I could stay. And here's why:

For a week I haven't heard the sound of a phone ringing, or a newscaster predicting the latest doom and gloom. My hand has not lifted a vacuum. We've washed dishes at the blue spigot, showered under the cold shower by the beach, hopped on our bikes to get around. We've spent the day body surfing and reading at the beach. I've gone to the market, once.

We've cooked spectacular meals on the Coleman stove, brushed our teeth by moonlight, gone to sleep under the half moon.

Have I been cranky? Oh yeah. Two days of rain, in a tent can do that. And since yesterday, my lower back has been screaming. The good news, my upper body feels great. It's all a trade-off, right?

The thing is, we don't need all the things we think we do. If you have enough sarongs, you can create clothing, shelter, beach towels, an evening shawl, a blanket, a theater curtain. I figure if I can boil water for a cup of tea, I'm golden.

The one connection I've had to the world is This Being Alive. Blogging while camping is a funny thing. But it's the one thing I've decided to show up for, every day, no matter where I am. This is post # 141? Yahoo!

Anyway, it's time to log off and get on my bike. If anyone asks where I am, just tell them I've gone native.