I love camping.
I love everything about it. I love the planning, the packing, the dreaming part. Then the actual camping, the quiet (or sometimes the noise), the smoke from the campfire and long walks in the woods, being with my kids all day, sleeping outside. I love grilled food and drinking around a campfire at night. I even love coming home and unpacking! (maybe not the laundry, though, I don’t love that.) It’s so simple, just focusing on preparing food, building a fire, making the tent neat and warm, keeping clothes dry, actually talking. I love a few days without facebook and e-mail and netflix.
I used to do hard-core backpack style camping, or sometimes canoe camping, back in my old BK (before kids) days. Now we do mainly what is referred to as “car camping”. It’s kind of cheating, because you just pull your car up to a spot and unload your shit right from the trunk. The ground is all level and there’s usually a picnic table and a fire-ring there for you. The better campgrounds even have nice bathrooms, showers, a store, swimming pools, and even playgrounds. I have to admit, it’s easier! Someday, I still want to do the Appalachian trail, all by myself…but for now, with my kids in tow, it’s car camping or nothing.
So this weekend, in honor of the true (solstice) start of summer, I’m taking my kids camping. I’m meeting a girlfriend, whose kids are the same ages as mine, and we’re leaving our husbands at home. We will drink too much wine and laugh way too loud and let our kids eat far too many s’mores.
It will be glorious! (It always is)