<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<rss version="2.0"
	xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"
	xmlns:wfw="http://wellformedweb.org/CommentAPI/"
	xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/"
	xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom"
	xmlns:sy="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/syndication/"
	xmlns:slash="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/slash/"
	>

<channel>
	<title>Bradley Jon DeLoatche &#187; Nature</title>
	<atom:link href="http://bradleyjon.com/tag/nature/feed/" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml" />
	<link>http://bradleyjon.com</link>
	<description></description>
	<lastBuildDate>Sun, 11 Jul 2010 17:59:43 +0000</lastBuildDate>
	<language>en</language>
	<sy:updatePeriod>hourly</sy:updatePeriod>
	<sy:updateFrequency>1</sy:updateFrequency>
	<generator>http://wordpress.org/?v=3.0</generator>
		<item>
		<title>Backpacking</title>
		<link>http://bradleyjon.com/2008/04/27/backpack/</link>
		<comments>http://bradleyjon.com/2008/04/27/backpack/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 27 Apr 2008 17:52:22 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Bradley Jon DeLoatche</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry and Musings]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Camping]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Nature]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://bradleyjon.com/?p=5</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[I can smell the dirt here is moist and settling amongst the roots of the loblolly pines and live oaks. I dig with my hands and run my fingers through the earth. Mixing with the night air it turns to perfume and dances up past my face. Hiking between the old giants that whisper overhead [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p><a class="tt-flickr tt-flickr-Small" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/bradleyjon/2319934377/"><img class="alignleft" style="float: left;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3002/2319934377_4d5a7cacfb_m.jpg" border="0" alt="Frosty" width="240" height="160" /></a> I can smell the dirt here is moist and settling amongst the roots of the loblolly pines and live oaks. I dig with my hands and run my fingers through the earth. Mixing with the night air it turns to perfume and dances up past my face. Hiking between the old giants that whisper overhead and hold hands underground, we go silently. Through the natural crowd is our spot between the ponds. This is my home away from home. I sleep at peace on this moonlit ground.</p>
]]></content:encoded>
			<wfw:commentRss>http://bradleyjon.com/2008/04/27/backpack/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
	</channel>
</rss>
