The starry night drapes a twinkling skylight above the tops of dark trees and the smells of wood smoke and pine pleases my nose.

    I can sense different parts of my body being warmed while the rest feels the chill of the night air and I note how pleasing the varying temperatures enliven me. The fire dances across dry logs while I gaze into it’s light; and like a small feather floating upwards in a draft, an occasional point of light fades as it escapes it’s source below. The chunky embers glow underneath in colors of yellow and red contrasting their darkened cousins. I hear music from the pine needles as a breeze plays them in surround sound. My filling senses replenish old pieces and this connected peace of nature brings a smile to my soul.
     I have tended campfires in many places throughout my life. On Mother Lode mountain tops, under redwood trees, along rafted rivers, water skied lakes, frog jumping meadows, partying ocean beaches, and Women’s Sundance deserts.

   Each of them added their own nuances to my campfire enrichment.

Posted by Steffie Rae

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