This past Saturday morning was cold, by Florida standards. Friday night had been clear and the cold front that had passed through blew out the clouds and humidity that had been with us last week. We woke to temperatures in the low 30s and a light wind that made things feel a lot colder.
We woke in tents. More than two miles from the next house. Burrowing out of the toasty comfort of the sleeping bag seemed like lunacy. And yet, within fifteen minutes, I'd gotten dressed and was heating the coffee I'd made before on our Coleman stove.
Seven o'clock dawned earlier than anyone wanted and when I shook tents, a chorus of groans greeted me.
Our dining hall had no walls. It was a slab of concrete with a metal roof and picnic tables that may have been built by the Seminole Indians. The pancakes and sausage on a stick (like a corn dog, only with sausage wrapped by a pancake) was surprisingly good. The boys liked it.
They played football while we sipped coffee and waited for the flag ceremony. Then we went off to fish for mousetraps off the back of one of the camp buildings.
Such is life at the December Cub World. Because it falls two weeks before Christmas, there's always other work that should be done, but can't because we're camping. And it always seems to be the coldest weekend of the year.
And though I could be home sleeping on a bed in a heated house and getting things done, I'm always glad that we went.
The kids who went don't realize that a lot of kids never get to go camping, even if it's cold. They didn't complain about the cold. They just put on clothes and had fun. And they might have learned something along the way.
Nice way to spend a weekend, sleeping out in the cold.
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