June 2, 1955 - Campfires

The moon is at half-round - a pure pale light set alone in the still pale sky - the great oak & the other trees are black, lonely masses - serene silhouettes - I see the spark of a single firefly down by the road among the apple trees - and across on the other hill.

The windows have lit up one by one - among them I can see two flickering lights - of backyard paper fires - they make me think of camp fires - have you ever experienced the multitude of good feelings that sweep over you at the sight of other campfires at distances from your own? Picture this: you're sitting on a log close up to a small wood fire warming yourself against the quite cool night mountain air - your camp is set up around you - you are happily weary from hiking and from the simple chores of making a home for yourselves outdoors - the night is sweetly still around, above & beyond you - and, in the places such as I like best, you are all alone as far as sight & sound are witness - but, wait! See those flickering friendly firelights across the lake or valleye or river - around each is gathered another contented group of campers loving the things you love at this moment - all at this moment your brothers, sharing the things God gave all mankind to share, the things to which there is no end.