It’s October and the serious
campers are out in force for

what might be the last weekend
of the season — pop-ups, tents,

teardrops, some larger travel
trailers and fifth wheels,

hardly any motor homes. Those
behemoths, mastodons and dino-

saurs are winterized and put
away in storage or are on their

way at six miles per gallon to
Florida, Texas and Arizona.

Smoke billows from campfires
smelling aromatic with the last

of the seasoned wood. Folks
squint in the warmth of the

setting sun and shield the
mysteries they are reading

from the glare. They wave at
passers bye and mention that

there is a distinct chill in
the air hoping the rain will

hold off till Sunday noon when
they break camp for the last

time. They wear down vests,
jackets, parkas even waiting

for their breath to look smoky
like the fire. They know it

will be easy to put away their
little, weekend getaway homes,

but it will be sad like seeing
the last, red, maple leaf fall.