The sunny day gives way to darkness, and while the tempurature drops the trees that hug our campsite by the river seem to edge closer and hug the warmth provided by the campfire. The river all the while continues its busy chatter.
Collecting campfire wood is always such a cheerful and fun chore but is made better by the threat of no campfire at all. Skye seems to be in his element -- never more free, and never more responsible for keeping watch for our safety. He's rewarded with a freshly open-fire-roasted hot dog and numerous frolicks in the Yakima river.
Being out here on a night like tonight is worth all the effort. I'm reminded of the fish I caught today, near the swinging bridge at dusk while my son and my dog play nearby in the tall grass. The fish, hooked deeply in the lip by that which seemed to simply be a tasty treat, had a tough time letting go of the hook. By the time I was able to remove it, the fish was too weak to keep upright in the water -- it was going to die. Only after I, who lured it in the first place, applied patience and care in holding it in the water and making water surge through its gills, was it able to revive, remember its energy and swim again strong against the ever-shifting current.