Drawn to the Glow

The glow, smoke, and brightness of campfires are so compelling. When the children were young, we had hundreds of dollars worth of camping equipment stored in our crawlspace, purchased on a whim because we had no money for vacationing and felt the siren song of the outdoors. We only used it twice, preferring to borrow a friend's camper or, better yet, stay in cabins with running water. Personally, I did not realize how uncomfortable it was for an overweight person to sleep on the ground. Body padding was not an asset. On the contrary, the extra weight pressing down on the rocky surface only heightened the cold and numbness. But ah, cabins had mattresses!

No matter the level of convenience, the delight was equally divided among early morning coffee at the picnic table while bacon crackled in the cast iron skillet, packet cooking in the coals for an easy meal, and simple campfire sitting and dreaming. As soon as the dinner was finished, gear stowed, and dishes rinsed, we would instinctively start gathering twigs, bark, and logs. We built the requisite pyramid shape and carefully laid in the dry tinder. Brushing back any stray foliage to add an extra measure of safety, anticipation grew as we awaited nightfall. Everything magical started at the edge of darkness: firefly chases, flashlight tag, ember updrafts, camp songs, and the ever-present dirty faces-hands-knees.

Competition always flared - who could start the fire with one match - but regardless of who won, we welcomed the inevitable "smoke dance." We coughed and laughed as breezes shifted, chairs scraped dirt piles as we moved from the smoky curtain, and finally claimed our ideal spot.

The night air was punctuated with "be careful" as the children drifted closer to the fire, drawn by the warmth and glow. The older children threaded marshmallows for the younger siblings, and we sat by with graham crackers and chocolate squares at the ready. S'mores were the sugar reward for a long day in the sun taking woodland hikes to hidden waterfalls and streams. It didn't matter half the marshmallows turned to torches and fell charred into the fire. That too was part of the challenge, the fun, the commitment to relaxing outdoors as a family.

Tent and camper parks, state parks, all have an easy camaraderie, a rhythm built around the interwoven ages, stories, campfires, and food. During the day, favorite toys traveled with rambling children from one site to another, then were redistributed before everyone left for home, the memories of who shared them attached like barnacles to each toy. Water jugs, shared six-packs, extra towels often moved between new friends as well. Voices and laughter drifted from site to site and, at the end of the day, as children bedded down from exhaustion, often adults would mingle easily with neighboring campers, adopting one campfire to settle in for conversation and staring. As the campfires turned to embers, the murmur of voices drifted away, and all would be still.

A favorite activity has always been driving through campgrounds to absorb the ambiance of those staying there, I haven't camped much in a long time, but one of the first things I did when I bought my own home was build a cinder block fire pit, providing the best of all worlds: enjoy the fire's glow as often as I like, and sleep in my own bed. I've made packet meals, hot dogs on sticks, and s'mores galore for my grandchildren. The legacy continues.