Camping with Corey

Our friend Corey, aka Herotomost, at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, has asked us to write about camping, or something scary (the two are synonymous) or something Lewis-and-Clarkian. Then he tells us he makes his Smores while sitting outside a luxury vehicle like this one:

Sigh.
I remember being in a canvas tent with my parents, brother, and sister, five sleeping bags overlapping at awkward angles, topped by a collie named Wag. No fun atallatall, except for the dog.

Photo from
Wikimedia Commons

I ate too many Smores

when I camped

the night before,

and found myself

peeing in a canyon

in the dark,

risking life and limb

to get away from him

who was snoring

in a camper

three doors down.

I nearly almost fell,

like Timmy in a well,

and then...

I swore I’d never

camp this way again.

Kay Davies, March, 2014

Fortunately for me, my husband hates the idea of camping, no matter how luxurious the vehicle, so our next adventure won't be in tents made of reindeer hide and sinew, but instead will be at the Reykjavik Hilton.
Sigh, happily.