For a guy who has camping down to a fine art, my husband still manages to scribble outside the lines. And I’m calling him on it.

He’s an expert camper; he becomes one with nature. His camping pillow, before my arrival to his life, was caked with dirt, sweat and body oils. Doesn’t get much more natural than that. He spends hours splashing around in a river: building a dam, kayaking, swimming to islands to retrieve wood on “man expeditions” or floating with a cold beer in a koozie. He could entertain himself, let alone survive, in the wilderness for weeks at a time by himself. Admittedly, I could entertain myself and survive for a weekend, with a carload of food and shelter items, packed and set up by the husband.

We don’t always agree on camping best practices, but enjoying nature together is something we do do (Read: doodoo).
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In the midst of my observations, I found the upside to camping! You combine the best of both worlds, camping and home.
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We camped for the Fourth of July. My husband loves camping, and I had never done more than sleep in a sleeping bag in the family room before I met him. This is my second season of camping, which was prompted last year when I moved to Colorado to get married. While my inaugural year brought discomfort and grimy fun, I’m really learning the nuances of wilderness slumber this year:
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