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Horace, calm as always, loaded his muzzle-loader rifle, just in case, then gathered some deadfall tree branches, and built a roaring fire on the riverbank. Abby and his family huddled by the fire while Horace looked all around, watching for predators. Having only an axe, an adze, and a handsaw for tools, Horace created a lean-to shelter on the steep . . . Continue Reading

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In: Fiction, Hiking, Wanderings
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I gather small fallen branches and twigs and arrange my campfire. Back to the cliff’s edge, to sit and look around. No matter in what direction I look, I see no man-made lights. The darkening sky shows a sliver of moon, and countless stars begin to appear. Other than the whispering of a gentle breeze in some tall grasses behind me, all is silent . . . Continue Reading