Sometimes we get so hungry for cold creek water on our skin and the wild earth beneath our feet that we scrap our dinner plans, pack a picnic, and head to the country.
As soon as we pile out of the truck I stop noticing the tick of my watch. Time and worry cease to exist. We laugh, hike, wade, (knit), forage, and stay out past bedtime, and come home happy and sleepy in the pickup truck after the fireflies come out to do their dance.
Last night was one of those nights. And it was perfect.