A Rose by Any Other Name...

According to Rich, I win "GQ Lumber Jack of the Year" Award for this photo. Mind you, the only thing we did with lumber was burn it, and we didn't jack shit, but that's neither here nor there... (Although I love his rose-colored glasses...)

I know that's not why you are here, dear reader. No, camping isn't your thing, is it? You are here for the hard-hitting, no-holds-barred commentary on god, church, politics, religion, life, and otherwise, are you not?

"After all," you must be saying, "when did Jason become this world-traveling cover model? When did life begin to center around... camping?!"

It's the simple things, dear reader. The smell of a burning log. The crisp leaves crunching underfoot with the rainbow of colors that the slumbering oaks and maples have provided. A lightly browned marshmallow smashed between two crunchy graham crackers, the chocolate melted just so. Staring at the stars, tracing the lines of Orion, the moon rise and fall, the night owl calling for information.

Oh, and the caves! They were beautiful! A little water, some minerals, and tons of times, and the most stunning formations appear. Ice cream sundaes of iron and calcite, chandeliers of salt, waterfalls of iron and granite. This needed no creator, my friends. Just time. Time, water, and a conscious mind to reflect and admire...

Time marches on, however, and all too soon I was staring at a monitor at work making green things so that people like you, dear reader, can go to the store and buy them, never realizing the headaches, micromanagement, and over-thinking that goes into such items.

Sigh.

But at least we'll always have Luray. And you won't lose a writer.

So I suppose it's win-win. (CLUE: Put those rose-colored reading glasses on and tell me how you couldn't live without reading this blog...)