rhythm of camp life established.
my small tent my home, my small oasis.
bucket shower in the evening amongst the scrubby brush, my toes mingling with the brown earth.
nothing electronic, no clock, no phone, no electricity, nothing. simplicity.
simple meals, carrying jerry cans of water from the farmer's tap down the valley; cows, sheep, laundry drying over leaning wooden fences. crickets and birds, brilliant radiant blues and browns,
the cliff faces offering up their splendors from morning till dusk; our small group perched at the top of the cliff watched the eagles soar on thermals and laughed.
