Nurses, doctors, police officers, reporters and bartenders know whenever there's a full moon.

I was a bartender long before I was a reporter.

The full moon that comes with spring is a doozie. Folks have been shut up inside their homes all winter, and they are either ready to let loose, or blow a gasket.

I can't decide myself which way to go.

I once had a routine where, once a month, I would go sing karaoke at the local watering hole and dance all night long.

But, folks get tired of hearing the same old songs, and I got tired of singing them. The karaoke guy really needed to update his music.

No, I really feel the need to go camping.

Our last camping trip was last September, when the Middle Fork River was nothing but a trickling stream. But I still remember, early last spring how it was then.

Frank and I arrived at Audra State Park the second weekend they were open. The weekend before we arrived, there was three inches of snow on the ground.

Except for one couple in a camper, we had the whole place to ourselves. They looked at us like we were crazy when we began setting up our tent.

Yes, it was a bit chilly. And a little damp. But, we didn't need to buy any firewood, as the campground had not yet been cleaned of the drift wood the raging winter river had deposited on the shores.

In spring, the Middle Fork roars. It is a wild creature that never ceases its call, a presence that reaches into your subconcious as you sleep along its banks.

I don't care if it is cold. I want to hear the river roar.

And I want to roar back.