At the behest of some friends, we gathered our overnight bags and headed for a cabin in the woods. A brief overnight stay at the Davey Crockett Campground in the East Tennessee hills sounded wonderful. The anticipation that flooded my spirit signaled it has been too long a season without refreshment, and I’m tired. More than tired actually, I am weary. This has been the first year that I can remember where we didn’t make time for vacation.  The pace of our lives in Tennessee is at the same time wonderful and daunting, and of our own making. Arriving in our rental home last February, our relocation from Florida has been a welcome change of lifestyle. New jobs and new ministry opportunities have filled us, and our schedules, and I am showing the signs of wear.

We drove east on Sunday leaving church before the sermon was over, and were welcomed by our dear friends with smiles, flannel, hot coffee, and the greatest campsite ever. Their cute as a button camper was nestled on a piece of land, the birch and pine trees forming a backdrop encircling the lake. The air was uniquely crisp for an early fall day, and just a hint of color has begun draining the green of chlorophyll from the leaves, teasing the red and yellow into their appendages. The full riot of color is a few weeks away, but the suggestion of autumn fills me with anticipation as I dream of pumpkins, chilled apple cider, warm cinnamon doughnuts, and the unmistakable aroma of leaves burning.

We took a surprisingly easy hike through the woods along a well-marked trail and came upon a clearing, opening the way to the rock outcropping and the most magnificent view of the surrounding mountains. The top of our mountain was a flat rock shelf, the cold gray stone providing a perfect seating area to take in what can only be described as a cathedral of nature. My guilt for leaving church early (a throwback from my old fundamentalist days of guilt and shame no doubt), were quickly assuaged as this natural beauty aided my sense of the Divine in us, and all around us. What a sacred experience. Church indeed. We sat in quiet reverence taking in the unspeakable and awe-inspiring beauty, knowing that words would lessen this moment. Eventually we began to share how much our friendship meant and gratitude for the opportunity to enjoy this place together. The sun’s rays warmed us as we basked in the gloriousness of the scenery.

We headed back to the campground with full spirits but empty stomachs. All of this nature stuff makes one hungry! As the lengthening shadows signaled sunset, we lit the campfire and began dinner preparations. Nothing like a yummy burger and toasted roll, hot off the grill, and tomato caprise salad. Food always tastes better when you’re camping. Perhaps it’s the elemental nature of things, food, shelter, and fire. It brings out the most satisfying emotions. As a chef, I can only imagine how our earliest ancestors reacted when first discovering fire! Can you imagine the scene at the first cave man cookout! Enough with the veggies already. Steaks for everybody! We haven’t sat around a campfire in what seems like forever, so it was particularly wonderful to watch the lick of flames, and the redder than red-hot coals, all conspiring to provide warmth as the chill of night descended. Two layers of fleece made it hard to reach the bag of marshmallows sitting next to me, but I managed to skewer one, and be transported to the land of smores! Everyone has their own method of toasting marshmallows, from the gentle golden brown to the molten lava of black melting gooeyness. I subscribe to the latter method, and after years of marshmallow toasting neglect, I will admit, I dropped the first one directly onto the fire as I mistimed how vigorously I needed to blow out the incendiary sugary mass at the end of my stick. That sucker fell right onto the burning wood causing a little flare up, and the inevitable swear word I uttered. Alas! Not to be denied, I put another squishy puff of marshmallow on my stick, and timed this one perfectly. The waiting receptacle of Hershey’s chocolate square atop a graham cracker, made for the perfect campfire dessert.

As the flames consumed the last pieces of firewood, and the embers began to die down, we said goodnight to our friends, and headed off to bed. This day shared with friends, in the midst of nature’s beauty, has refreshed our spirits. What a satisfying day!