Dawn seemed like it would never come this morning. The days are certainly growing shorter with the threat of winter on the way. My fire had died down to embers when I awoke at four in the morning inside my tent. I threw some more twigs and logs on and got it roaring again. I lit my little camp stove and got a pot of coffee boiling. I poured a cup and sat next to the fire as it crackled and popped. It was chilly so I put on my fleece jacket.
The sky was partially overcast but I could still see thousands of stars and a crescent moon as it rose higher on the horizon. What a beautiful early morning view. Far off in the woods around me a lone whip-o-will called. The lonesome call of that little nocturnal bird always brings upon me an intense wave of nostalgia.
The stars dimmed and the first light of dawn appeared. Birds started to call in anticipation of another day. I relit my camp stove and reached into my cooler and pulled out some bacon and eggs. It is hard to describe, but food just tastes better to me when I am camping. Such usual fair as fried bacon and eggs tasted especially wonderful this morning.
I finally packed up all my gear into the car and drove down that dirt road. It was still sufficiently dark enough that I had to turn on my headlights. I came to the millpond and pulled up the side road. I got out of the car and sat next to the dam as the water roared over it. One solitary window within the millhouse was alit with a light. I was unaware that people still lived there. That house is ancient and dilapidated. After sitting for a long while listening to the water roar, I got back in the car and headed for home. The sun was just rising as I pulled up into my driveway.
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