camping tent As we unloaded the pickup truck in a large grass field miles past the last camping tent we saw traversing up a mountain hill in northern Arizona, I stared down really dark clouds slowly floating across the sky to the north. We set up camp, started throwing the football around and soon the sun was dropping behind the horizon. The clouds blotted out the stars and at this point we couldn’t really tell what the weather was going to have in store for us. Out of nowhere, the heavens opened up. The first raindrop exploded on the chair arm to the side of me and I looked up to be hit with another droplet right in the eye.

Then it started pouring. We covered all the food and supplies with a trap and jumped in the camping tent. At this point, it was around 10 pm. It had been a long day and I was tired. Getting into a flannel sleeping bag, I looked straight up at the camping tent ceiling and listened to the pitter patter of rain bead off the roof. Soon I was sleeping and by the time I awoke the rain had stopped.