It is Saturday evening, our last night at the campground.
A storm is brewing on the horizon. Fat, gray, menacing clouds. The leaves are flipped inside out and they're calling for thunderstorms over night.
I've started a fire nevertheless because a camp without a campfire is like s'mores without chocolate.
We have a radio tuned to a local station, and I'm writing a blog post.
Okay, I will be the first to admit that WiFi and tents do not seem to go together. But, I have appreciated the chance to check the weather and my email while here.
Next weekend we go camping in the northern part of Oxford County, where there isn't even running water. REAL camping. SO I will make up for surfing porn while in Conway.
That was a joke.
Corrine is the only one who does that anyway.
These last couple of days away from home have been a needed respite from everything.
Getting back tomorrow, however, I need to jump back into Purple Holly. I haven't written for a week.
Ever get the feeling that someone who is talking to you doesn't really have a point.