Gazing into the campfire — a fire in no jeopardy whatsoever of being underfed — it occurred to me that my relationship to firewood while camping is the same as my relationship to money while playing poker. I am deeply afraid of running out.
The place I camp is Butano State Park. It is a redwood forest. Did I mention that it’s a redwood forest? And that it comes with daytime darkness and extra silence? And did I mention the conspicuous lack of ants, flies, bees, and mosquitos? And that the dominant animal species is the banana slug?