I walked part of the way to work today. It’s a cool, damp morning, but it’s not really raining — just spitting. As I walked past the big house on the corner by the school, I breathed in a strong scent of wood smoke.
That brought me wide awake! Wood smoke, campfire, roll out of bed, put the coffee on and scramble the eggs! Oh, and find a bit more firewood while you’re at it. Then, sit down on a log and huddle by the fire sipping coffee.
If that’s not a happy place, I don’t know what is.
I agree. Seems like a happy place to meet.
Oh, I remember those days!
We have a fire going in the sun room right now, but you can’t get the aroma. That’s a good thing, since it’s indoors, but I like it best when it’s outside and your hair smells like smoke the next morning.
That is one of my very happiest places. One year my Husband got me a little tin for Christmas. When you opened it, the smell of a campfire hit you in the face. It was a wonderful thing to sniff on a yucky January day.
I have never, ever been camping. I sort of would like to.
Come visit sometime, Corina. I’ll take you camping. (Fair warning: sometimes ours smell a bit of wet dog.
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I’m spoiled, if I camp I like it to be in a hotel. That doesn’t stop the family from going every year though.
I was probably conceived in a tent, or an old pop-up camper. My fondest family moments are of those spent camping, mostly in the mountains. My wife, who was not a camper until we met, now says is isn’t camping without a fire, no matter the weather.
Never been camping? Oh! My. Corina, you must take a trip here (in summer of course).
jojovtx1800: yes! yes! Soooo totally yes! (Well, not quite. My sweetie liked camping before we met. I meant the yest on the memories thing. I don’t think I was conceived in a tent either). But, the other part is a more important yes. The parentheses are just details.
I don’t like camping, but I like the smell of it.