They have now emerged in one piece, are having breakfast and planning to go a bit further afield for their next night under canvas. My daughter and I remember a book we both read years ago, Four Rode Home by Primrose Cumming. A group of people and their horses are dropped off many miles from home and make their way back, riding all day and sleeping under the stars with the trusty ponies tethered to trees. My daughter would love to ride and camp like that; living life outside and concentrating only on the journey, the daily destination, the next meal, the building of camp-fires and the care of her horse.
If I went on a trek like that, I would probably find so much to inspire my writing and my mind would surely clear itself of mundane distractions. I would focus on my imagination, fired by the beauty of the great outdoors. However, I am a terrible home-body. I crave the great indoors and home comforts as much as my daughter loves the freedom of the world outside. Even as a baby, she only slept well outside in the fresh air, tucked into the pram and protected from cats by a net in the old-fashioned way. I love nothing more than to be at the kitchen table writing. Going outside doesn't come at all naturally to me, but I'm sure I should make the effort. Perhaps I'm just lazy. Or maybe a little agoraphobic? All I know is that when I go out, I can't wait to be back inside again.
I still love reading about other people's great adventures beyond their front doors. I shall dig out Four Rode Home and enjoy the ride that way. In the meantime, I am full of joy at the sparkling eyes of my daughter following her 'night out'. She has been ill for two years, so her renewed energy is a sign that she is now stepping out on the road to recovery.