An extra blanket

Sometimes our needs are so simple.

Yesterday was a difficult fishing day with 30 knot winds and rain. A couple of times a sustained blow made our 14' aluminum boat feel very small and its 9.9 horsepower motor weak. In fact, both were no match for nature's potential. Tal and I managed well, knowing Family Lake could easily win any battle instigated by the elements.

We had an assignment, the weather not withstanding. Fish was planned for dinner and we needed to catch our limit (four each). Although I tried, the weather proved too much for my boat-tending skills. So, I handled the craft and Tal fished. In the end his reputation was upheld, but it was by no means easy. His eight fish made me very tired!

The temperature dropped through the night (welcome to summer in Manitoba!) and I semi-awoke, aware I was cold. There was an extra blanket on the top bunk. It was all I needed. It-was-all-I-needed. Such a simple need. Such a small thing. Sleep returned.

Life in camp is by no means luxurious. The cabins are rustic; the furniture is mismatched, as are the bed linens. And, the beds (bunks) are a thin mattress on plywood. Single bulbs illumnate each room when the day light dims (at about 10). Having camped more primitively over the years, I know, how easy we have actually have it here at Shining Falls. I like the hot shower and the screens on the windows and not sleeping on the ground and digging a latrine.

But, I as I sit here I am also aware of how much I think I need day-to-day -- from kitchen equipment to clothing, from plant material to outdoor furniture, from books to CDs. The truth is, I don't need any of it. Nice. Not necessary.

So, what is need, as opposed to nice?

Early this morning with the temperature in the low 40s, that extra blanket made all the difference. I didn't even think to look to see what color it was. So simple.