The smell of a ol campfire hits a little different in the fall. The hope for a giant buck or maybe even a hog. We gather around the fire, friends and family alike, we eat and we laugh until it’s time to say good night.
City people think we’re crazy for living off the land but we call it freedom and it’s part of Gods plan. November is the time of year that sturs a hunters heart, but it’s not for the harvest of a deer or the color of the leaves. It’s for the laughs the food and stories with your family.
It’s the smell of the fire and laughs until we cry, it’s the one more cherished memory for the years that pass us by. It’s remembering the ones who passed and can’t be there anymore, we honor them with stories and a few tears from broken hearts.
It’s like an unspoken holiday we plan for every year. We plan and we prep and hope the weathers clear. We call it deer camp in our neck of the woods but truly it’s called freedom and it’s way down in our roots.
With our tents and campers and guns and camo we plan the weekend and the for more to follow. It’s our grandpas and dads and brothers and uncles our cousins and friends that make it so special.
It’s the smell of the fire and laughs until we cry, it’s the one more cherished memory for the years that pass us by. It’s remembering the ones who passed and can’t be there anymore, we honor them with stories and a few tears from broken hearts.