Sleeping with Nature

I spent last night in the tent, because I can, and the weather's been gorgeous and clear, stars are vivid, and this meadow is my own yard--I'll always remember nights in the tent. Set it up while the sun set and loaded it with sleeping pad, sleeping bag, extra blanket, and pillow, all ready to crawl into about 10 p.m. The tent's roof looks invisible but is transparent so all night the bowl of heaven and the almost-full moon shine down on me. I woke once and saw Orion rising in the east. In another hour I saw Venus, the morning star. The coming  lunar eclipse is Sunday, at maximum at 9:47 p.m., Midwestern time, in the sign of Aries: the Harvest Moon. An auspicious time to sleep as close as possible to it all.

Remind me these are dewy nights so I'll hook the rain fly on my tent and won't have condensation dripping on and -- surprise -- soaking my pillow before I even get in there, and waking me in the morning when the tent is in fact brightened by sunlight more so than anything around it.

A Fresh Tent

This is a Kelty "Grand Mesa" two-person tent, and I also bought the footprint. Tonight I sleep in it for the first time and anticipate through the screens the wonders of the night sky and creatures sniffing about, and, in this hot weather, an incredibly beautiful, steamy full hour of dawn, all orange and marbled with fog. Think I'll spend the weekend in it.

This is also the first time I set up the tent myself; the very first was in midsummer with my friend Marsha demonstrating the amazingly simple clip-on strategy used on tents now in place of the "sleeve" strategy of my old green-and-mustard dome tent that made erecting it rather like a session of tae kwon do.

I didn't sleep outside at any time last year, and regretted it. Time on earth -- directly on the earth and beneath the night sky -- is important; you live each night only once. There's a foam pad in there and my 40-degree sleeping bag and little pillow and a light soft blanket that in the chilly pre-dawn hours I will love feeling against my neck and chin. See you in the morning.

He Breathes Mercy

Love pitching my tent in the yard, after mowing to get rid of ticks and chiggers, and sleep in the tent on summer nights. I love to lie on the sleeping bag, through the ceiling net watching the stars chase fireflies. In the wee hours the slight chill makes me pull the bag over me, feeling ever so grateful for it. And when I unzip the tent at dawn I see this. Quiet, beautiful, fresh as heaven. While I took photos I heard an unusual bird call repeated and wondered, "If cardinals sing 'Cheer cheer,' what is this bird saying?" And the answer came: It says "He breathes MERcy. He breathes MERcy." And you know, as good as I feel, and because I'm still alive, I think He really does!

Tenting Tonight

When the normal dwelling just can't hold all that's in your mind and heart; when the usual bed is like your own miniature sweat lodge; when the days are dry and cool and getting cooler; when the moon is big; when you just have to crawl into something and hide...very fortunate and privileged that I have the property on which to do this. I keep this section of meadow mowed just for this reason. Also makes a great deer bed when I'm not using it.