I love my set of vacation linens. I keep them in the trailer ready to go, so they are only used on camping trips. The pink towel is from my grandmother's collection.
Camping on the McCloud river near Mt. Shasta for a week was a real treat. I was able to relax, loose track of time, drink my morning tea around the campfire, read next to the river, and sleep under the stars.
One of the things I pondered during my days at the campground were the differences between the RV's, small trailers, tents, and back packers passing through. I wondered how much our experiences of camping were circumscribed by the level of comfort we required. Sometimes I could see people watching satellite TV in their RV's at night. Wow.
Rowing the Boat:
There are times that I yearn for a more comfortable life, but when does comfort become a prison, keeping us blind to the brilliant night sky? When does lack of comfort become a burden, focusing our eyes only on what we don't have? What role does comfort or hardship play in your creative process?