When I was a kid living our west, we used to go camping in the summer. I loved being out in the woods breathing the smell of pine and fir trees, damp earth, and creek water. I loved the high, clear sound of wind moving through branches above my head and birds calling across the forest. I loved the sound of the tent zipper in the morning and the first snaps and crackles of the fire as dad got the breakfast going. We'd wake up snug in our sleeping bags with the urge to burrow away from the the cold, but that fire and the smell of sausages coaxed us up and out into the glorious sun dappled day.
Being in wilderness down South in summer is nothing like this.
It is a tropical insect fest mostly and a sun scorch. It makes me wonder why on earth anyone ever settled here on purpose.
I always feel that I am in some kind of Tarzan movie.
We had an early start, but the humidity smacked us right away, and the sweat sucking insects are always hungry.
We saw many great skinks (as below) and lizards, a snake, some fantastic herons, and a few painted buntings (birds), and a gopher tortoise.
Doesn't the fiber on this plant look like an animal?
Yeah, maybe a sloth.
