My Day by Eleanor Roosevelt  Text Size: Small Text Normal Text
Large Text Larger Text  HYDE PARK, Monday—Yesterday we had a
picnic lunch, and I was reminded of a trip many years ago, when
I spent a week on an island up in the Adirondacks. We cooked
entirely out-of-doors, our stove being some stones conveniently
arranged to shelter a fire and support our pots and pans.
Somehow our food seemed better than food usually does when
cooked in the most convenient of kitchens. Perhaps it was
because we had to row two miles for our supplies: by the time we
had them and rowed back, and had done other chores around our
little island and its tents, whatever we had to eat tasted like
food for the gods. Here our picnics are pretty simple to
arrange, with a built-in grill and everything conveniently at
hand.  Sleeping on a porch in comfortable beds certainly can't
compare, either, with gathering pine boughs and spreading out
one's sleeping bag under a tree. There is always the chance of
rain during the night, of course, but