When people talk about their sleeping difficulties I do my best to show empathy, but truthfully, I don't understand. My ability to sleep has always been my strongest attribute. Long before child restraining seats were invented, I slept in the rear window of the car. After a night fire mission in the army, I slept holding on to the two overhead rails in the aisle of a transport bus. A few years ago I woke up in my work car which was parked in the garage and realized that I was late for my own birthday party.

Gone though, are the nights that I can sleep comfortably all night. Chronic back pain from building houses for forty years has me constantly searching for a soft position. My Select Comfort air bed is a little like sleeping on a cloud, but I can't take it with me everywhere. Short trips in the Sandhills usually means that I will be sleeping in the reclined seat of the truck. In the rare weeks when mosquitoes aren't buzzing I can stretch out on the ground or on the floor of the boat. Sand conforms to your body, so it's a little like a mattress.

White noise machines are not necessary in the Sandhills. The constant hum of mosquitoes or the quiet patter of rain on a pickup roof can lull any brain into slumber. If this isn't quite enough noise, then an occasional coyote serenade may do. Night hawks, owls, and killdeer provide background harmony. Late summer crickets and hoppers play their leg fiddles deep into the night. If you're real lucky, you'll be sleeping near water and listening to the rhythmic lapping of waves slurping on a sandy shore. The rattle of cottonwood leaves in a gentle wind is enough to quell the most troubling thoughts.

Most folks require darkness to sleep well. The Sandhills are so dark at night that the stars seem extraordinarily bright. The moon is like a train's headlight. One night I woke to reposition my lower vertebrae and glanced out the side window. My favorite constellation that I've named, "The Steer," was perfectly framed in the picture. I smiled and thanked God for the unexpected gift. This was something that a person could never experience at home staring at a drywalled ceiling.

My wife needs a fan blowing on her all night to sleep. I use her as a windbreak since I don't need the draft. Speaking of wind, the Sandhills normally provide all the breeze necessary for a night's rest. Early spring tent camping requires either one hundred mile-per-hour wind rated tents or a nearby vehicle to tie the tent to. On the worst nights you may need both. Folks who sleep to AC/DC or Van Halen would enjoy this type of camping. I prefer the late summer doldrums, when night air hovers like a hungry hummingbird at a petunia. This is when you can lay back and enjoy the entire relaxing Sandhill orchestra.