Shelter in the Underbrush

A mariner answers when the wild timber beckons. Stepping off the garden paving, I pressed through a wall of fallen twigs into the thicket beneath a spreading rhododendron shrub. Night was rolling in, cold and deep as an ocean swell. Survival out here demands quick fortifications. Beside a moss-covered root, I gathered three broad, leathery evergreen leaves and leaned them against my sounding rod like a pitched canvas lean-to. To seal the windward flank against drafts, I rolled a rough pinecone tight to the base. Bracing my peg against the loamy soil, I took shelter beneath the ribbed leaf ceiling. Steady, dry, and secure against the dark forest.