This past Saturday, some church members got together for an overnight campout on the land our church owns, but hasn’t built on yet. The outing was led by a bona fide Scoutmaster, and included everything a good Scout campout needs: raising a flagpole and hoisting a homemade camp flag, hacking down brush for tent sites, cooking dinner on camp stoves, enjoying a well-constructed fire (with all possible safety precautions taken), eating S’mores, singing songs & telling ghost stories, trying to avoid poison ivy, and being rudely awakened in the middle of the night by the sheriff. Oh, wait, maybe that last thing isn’t traditional. I’m not sure if I should be irritated that the sheriff’s department is harassing people having good, clean fun on their privately owned land, or happy that they are keeping the riff raff off our property. I mean, the other riff raff.
I love a roaring fire that someone else is responsible for. Of course, it only roared a little while, then settled down to marshmallow toasting level.
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