Lakes and campfires

A good friend of mine posted a picture of them having a blazing camp fire, and it was hot outside. His words to describe it was "nothing like a good fire on a hot summer night." It's true. There is something about sitting around a fire watching it burn whether one is sweating or scooting close to the fire because of the cold.

A bunch of us used to go up by Sam A. Baker Park and spend a few days. There was no air conditioning, but there was electricity, so we had fans. But when the temp is 95 outside, a fan can only do so much. You just sweat. But we always had a camp fire. Always. I made sure we had a coffee pot, and if Dallas Kinder was along, there always was a pot of beans sitting over the camp fire. Somehow he would figure out a way to set a cast iron pot of beans and ham hocks on the fire. I think the maddest I ever saw Dallas was when I accidently let the beans burn. He was smoking hot.

Numerous times a year, our oldest son invites our other son and Marge and I down to roast hot dogs and eat marshmellows. So we all sit around the fire sweating and no matter where you sit the smoke from the fire drifts your way. Seems like at times one can move to the other side of the fire, and the smoke will drift that way to you. And by the end of the evening we all smell like a wood fire and hotdogs. Not much better than a hotdog over a wood fire though.

There was a big body of water, Lake McConaughy, 25 to 30 miles south of where I grew up north of Arthur, Nebraska. We simply called it the Dam. There were sandy beaches all around the Dam. Crystal clear water. We'd go down to fish, but a good wood fire never hurts. So we'd scrounge around and find enough wood to burn, and Dad would get it started. So we'd sit by the fire and watch our poles. I'd like to go back and relive some of those days with Mom and Dad.

But there were times when we just went down to fish and there wasn't a fire. Now don't get me wrong, when I'm by a body of water, fishing will always be on my mind. But sitting by a lake with the waves lapping up on the shore can touch one down deep in one's soul. When Marge's sister died out in California, Marge and I flew out there. And we made sure we went to the beach. First and only time by the ocean. Too many people. Too much noise. I want to hear the waves and listen to the birds. There were times in Nebraska where one could hear gulls but not very often. In Nebraska one could usually hear a killdeer bird. Fiercely protective of her young and the nest.

Or we'd drive up to Sand Pudding and catch some bullheads. Up there, you could watch a curlew or maybe a mud hen or a red-winged blackbird. Do a word search for curlew. One of the neatest birds in Nebraska. You could sit by the bank and just listen the sounds of nature but honestly mostly silence. It was miles to a human being, so there weren't any cars or trains or even airplanes. Just silence.

Some people can't handle silence. They have to have the TV on or a radio on or ear plugs in or someone chattering there close to you. Maybe one reason we all kind of like camp fires and lakes is we get back to nature and can hear the sounds of nature. Like the crackle of a camp fire or a tree frog or an old bullfrog croaking out his greeting. Or the sound of an old coyote howling off in the distance. Or down here in Missouri, the bark of a fox.

Need some quality quiet time? Find a remote lake or find a quiet spot and build a camp fire. (Make sure it's legal to build a fire.)