Why we call it Wildwood, or our misadventures camping out here

Before we moved out here, we brought a couple of the dogs to camp in the woods down the hill from the house-site. This area is now what we call The Circle because the trees open up in a nice circular area that’s great for camping. Lovely, tall hardwoods reach to the sky, framing the Circle in green during the summer. We were so excited about living out here that we just couldn’t wait another minute so, on the hottest day in August, we decided to pack the car and just drive out here to camp for the weekend.
It was a romantic notion fraught with problems…Mark had strained his back earlier, we ran over the propane stove with the car and did I mention that it was August in the deep south? After we lugged all our crap down the hill to the Circle, we set up camp, ate something out of a can that didn’t need to be cooked and tried to enjoy the evening. When night fell, it fell hard. I mean, it was pitch dark and I’m no stranger to camping out at night. I remember hearing Wildwood Papa moaning in pain as he shifted positions in his camping chair and Treah’s black eyes glistening in the dark. Her and Pluto stayed close to the tent, quiet and intense. They didn’t hardly move except to swivel their heads around to get a better scent of the grizzly bear or cougar that must have been circling our campsite.
At least that’s the story my imagination was conjuring, more likely it was coyote or wild pig, but who knows because when Mark finally said, this sucks, my back hurts and I said let’s pack up and get the hell up the hill…we saw two glowing, reflective eyes about thirty feet from our tent. Those eyes were approximately at waist level. Waist level. Ok, that means that something big was watching us, really big. It scared the bejeezus out of us and we broke that camp down in record time.
All the while the dogs stayed close to our legs, watching, always watching. I sure do love my dogs.

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