Peter H. Cropes

Oh, how it would be fine to go camping. The dog days and locust nights are nearly past and now once again a body can lay out under the stars without worry of mosquitoes or toads. Maybe I will pack up the old cooler and bedroll and find some time to myself out in the open. Heh if you can believe it I am even mildly paranoid that Casper Jim Middritch will come drive an axe into my guts even though he has been dead ten years, oh how he used to do that. Camping is a time when we agree with no-one that we are safe, and people who don't care about that have maps to campgrounds.