When no shelter is available to me, I sleep in the fields or by the side of the road with God to guard me. Bridges always offered protection from the elements, as well as dilapidated barns and empty basements of abandoned homes. Culverts and large pipes often served as lodging. But one of my favorite places to sleep is a large haystack piled in an accessible field on a clear night. The stars are my blanket.
Cemeteries are also wonderful places to sleep for the night.
They are quiet, the grass is always neatly trimmed, and nobody ever bothers you there. No, there is no intrusion upon the departed spirits. But a picnic table at a nearby road stop, a gathering of pine needles in a nearby brush, or the cushion of a blossoming wheat field would serve as well. One morning, when I was sleeping in a Kansas wheat field, I was awakened to a very loud noise. I looked up only to see this huge reaper bearing down on me.