Comfort

We headed north on our weekend camping mini-vacation at a fairly decent hour this morning. As soon as we crossed the high bridge over to Wisconsin, we were met by an insistent rain, heavy at times. By the time we pulled in at our friends' lake side paradise retreat, it was pouring. They already had a tent pitched for us, outfitted with a lush foam cushion interior. Vegetarian chilly was bubbling over the fire. A couple of hot toddies were mixed up and pretty soon it was: What rain?

On this day, the crackling fire they had going provided even more than just the social and primal comfort that I associate with campfires. It warmed, it soothed and it didn't take long before the flames were mesmerizing me with their dance.