SLEEPING ARANGEMENTS

We awoke to a heavy layer of fog covering all the windows, outside frost clung to our camp chairs. It was quiet - the type of quiet accompanied by lakes as smooth as glass and fog that patiently sits in treetops. The forecast had called for temperatures in the low 40s, but it had clearly dipped below that. We had both spent the night pushed up to opposite wheel wells, grasping at the ends of our blanket as Roan sprawled out between us - this is part of his typical routine: he starts out at our feet, Olivia drags him up to cuddle, after a few minutes he crawls back to the bottom, a few hours pass and he sneaks up between us to steal all our warmth. As the grey light inside our bedroom-on-wheels begins to warm up, Roan apologizes for his greedy ways by licking our faces until we are fully awake (only slightly more enjoyable than the full on dive-bomb-your-face he does at home). 

With the threat of an excited Heeler peeing on our bedding, I have no choice but to make my way outside to begin packing our gear - and tossing pine cones to save the still air from obnoxious puppy barking. Our mountain camp for the night had been a narrow pull off of a dusty, rutted Forest Service road. The mountain side here is nearly barren of living evergreens, it consists primarily of 4-5 foot tall bushes and the occasional dead, bleached tree. Below us the clouds hug the surface of the lake, beyond that the sky is painted in quickly changing pastel hues of pink and blue. I start the 4Runner despite knowing the windows will never fully defog and we are in for a chilly ride to town.