Arustling beneath me – Matthew was rummaging in his pack. It was near midnight. He pulled out his rain fly, crawled back into his hammock, and wrapped the fly around his whole body and over his head. Suspended a few feet above him between two birches, I felt a bit satisfied that I had packed a long-sleeve shirt and was not feeling the least bit chilly. It was probably half an hour before I was padding around in the dirt in my socks, trying to undo my own rain fly and putting on every piece of extra clothing I had. Another hour after that my toes went numb, and then my whole feet, and then a night of shivering. Sleep made the briefest of cameo appearances.

Without being in nature, how can we love it?