I believe in weekend bonfires. That they’re an amazing way to wind down a busy, hectic week with a stemless glass of my favorite wine, and good friends. I believe in colorful flannel shirts, and that it’s OK for the guys to pee in the woods as long as we can’t see them.
I believe in marshmallows and hot dogs, on actual broken sticks from the woods that you wipe on the side of your jeans to clean off. I love the chill of the evenings as we move into the fall season, and the warmth I get sneaking closer and closer to the flames.
I believe in a weekend in the city followed by a weekend in the country. A bonfire with friends that warms the soul. Crackles that spark and fly out of the fire ring, and the laughter that lasts into the dark evening hours. The point in time when the wives and girlfriends need to step in and put a limit to the ruckus, and going to sleep knowing you smell like camping, but not caring anyway.