My work here keeps me busy all the time. Days are full and meetings often take up my evenings. The garden calls all the time, with fresh goodies to pickle and freeze. A funeral adds stress and extra work. This week I also do the service at the nursing home. Minister meetings take place about 80 miles northeast, which becomes an all-day trip if I include some shopping. Rain fell during my last day off, so camping has been limited. Of course, my work is fulfilling and I cannot complain at all about being employed full-time by a wonderful church in a sweet little town.

Yet, lately I cannot sleep. I toss and turn, get out of bed, snack, head back to bed and read or listen to an audio book. Toss and turn more! Finally a few hours of rest fall upon my body.

I need some quiet time outdoors. I need to recharge. Late summer here is magnificent, but I have no time for a camping journey now. My solution: after the last evening meeting or when the garden bounty of the day is finally put up after an evening of canning, I make a nocturnal get-away. I dress in comfy sweats and wool socks (my version of pj’s), pack up breakfast for Tango. I make a Thermos of coffee for my morning jolt, throw the Kindle into my purse and head out with just the van. I keep a bed in the van like I did in the old camping days and now have it made up with lovely sheets, my heavy LL Bean zero degree sleeping bag, and a thick, cozy quilt, which I found at the thrift store (complete with pillow shams) for $5.

I sneaked out again last night. When I arrived at my secret haven at 9:30 PM, the sky still had some light; the sun set but the last rays reflected off the little lake.  If I set my camping chair just right, I can look out over the lake through a stand of cattails, which stand like sentinels on the watery shore. Geese honk and finally settled down. The water was glass smooth and quiet. The air was still and crisp. Stars revealed themselves one-by-one as the sky darkens. Stress melted away. I took long, deep breaths. Tango sat at my feet as always and looks up at me.

Bedtime! I fluff up the pillows, put the phone within arms reach, climb into the van, and finally turn on an audio book. I remember listening for five minutes and groping around for the off button. This little routine and the peaceful setting send me to a deep sleep.

Morning! I wake up around 6 AM because something is walking around on the metal van roof. I listen and decide a bird has claimed the van as a new perch. I never saw the bird but it was big, based on the foot noise on the bare metal. Nearby several birds chattered nervously. A hawk? No matter, I love waking up to the sound of a noisy bird trying to move in. The peaceful feeling of the night before returned. I climb out of bed, feed Tango, and sit with coffee for a short time. Again, in the light of early morning, the lake is calm and the air perfectly still.
Slowly I drive back to town to begin a new day. I observe the daily changes to the farming landscape–the small grains are harvested and the remaining stubble is a deep amber, even prettier than the maturing grain. Blackbirds flow in large flocks over the top of the corn tassels. Geese gather in increasingly large groups as they practice living and flying in community before the migration. I see a world at peace, not yet geared up for a day. I am at peace as well. 

I will head out to my secret nocturnal sanctuary as often as possible–it is the cure for my sleeplessness. I  should also get some time to pull out the camper, but in the meantime, I am sleeping like a baby in my outdoor haven.

Van Gogh painted Crows over Wheat, which looks like my view of blackbirds birds over corn.