Backyard Adventures

       A few weeks ago I wrote about putting up a tipi in our backyard in North Florida. Hoping to spend the winter sleeping in there, my beau Bruce and I created a little haven for ourselves with lots of blankets, quilts, pillows, books, a lantern, and other homey necessities. But unfortunately, things didn't go very well with the tipi, and we had to take it down last week.
       Inasmuch as we loved the tipi, so did some other folks - particularly cockroaches, spiders, and lizards. And since the tipi doesn't have an attached floor, our secret little getaway was no secret anymore, especially to the insects. We also had a problem with moisture - tipis have holes in the tops of them, and yes, it gets wet inside when it rains. We put some plastic over the bedding to protect it, but it wasn't good enough. Plus the tipi cover started to look a little mildewed, and rather than wait for the weather to ruin it completely, Bruce took it apart one sad, November afternoon.

 

      
       So I came up with another idea, and this past Saturday we put up a tent instead. I had purchased a huge tent from Walmart several years ago, in order to go "car camping" with some of my girlfriends. That trip never materialized, so the mammoth tent has been sitting a camping box for a long time. The tent is a a cheap one, that probably wouldn't hold up to any serious storms, but as long as we don't get a hurricane, I think we're okay for now. Bruce built a nice bonfire after we put up the tent. We cooked up a pork loin, tossed a salad, and played some music around the campfire - Bruce on guitar, me on tenor ukulele. And it was a fun evening.
       It was cold that night, only about 28 degrees. But the tent kept us warm and safe, and in the morning we brewed some tea, stoked the fire a bit, and enjoyed our campsite as much as we would have staying at a state park. But something was missing, something magical that we had experienced with the tipi. Maybe it was lying on our backs, looking at the stars through the hole in the top. Or maybe it was that the tipi was made with Bruce's own hands. Or maybe we actually missed our little cockroach friends, who only came into the tipi to stay dry and warm, like us.
       When I look out the window of our house today, I see a billowy, blue monster, which resembles one of those children's bounce houses you find at birthday parties. It's ugly. It's made in China. But it's our new winter abode, anyway. And I think I can learn to like it.