We’re getting nice and easily settled in here at Hickory Hollow Campground in the rolling gorgeous hills outside of Somerset, Pennsylvania. If only our camera could capture the nighttime scenery wrapped all around us. A big burning nearly-full moon followed up on the opposite horizon that its brother moon sat behind, and now the softy golden glow pushing out of ours and our fellow camper’s rigs mixes in with the smoky remnants of the night’s various campfires. Our moon jar, a mason jar of frosted glass that soaks up the sun all day and then glows bright blue at night, seeps into night against all of the orange lights and coals.
I’ll easily admit that in my biking or roadtripping cars days, when camping in full tent status, I’d look down on RVers, tucked safely away in their mobile conveniences. But now, looking around the campsite as six or seven of our fellows and we circle around the center of the grounds, I feel like we’re a herd of bison, all oxwagon circled in to form our transient village for the now, safe in our current community.
We’ve settled in now quite nicely, and though still very much virgins to the whole experience, I can see us settling in quite nicely.