Hot sand on toes, cold sand in sleeping bags, I've come to know that memories were the best things you ever had.
The summer shone beat down on bony backs so far from home where the ocean stood, down dust and pine cone tracks.
We slept like dogs down by the fire side, awoke to the fog all around us. The boom of summer time.
We stood, steady as the starts in the woods, so happy-hearted.
And the warmth rang true inside these bones as the old pine fell we sang just to bless the morning.
more camping shots from my very talented friend, Silvia.
Ben Howard is one of my favorite artists and I think his songs are more like poems than
anything. Old Pine is a fav and the lyrics echo pretty closely to what I always feel in the mountains.
Counting down the days till the next adventure.