There's just something so romantic about picnicking. Spreading out a blanket on a nice shady patch, a cool breeze ruffling your hair and keeping it from being too warm but not so much that your blanket is blowing away. When I tried to picture my ideal picnic, I kept coming back to one image:
The rolling, open prairie of my childhood.
Close your eyes and imagine laying under that tree. Can you feel the gentle breeze brushing over you? Stretched out on a checkered blanket, you feel little pokes from the grass that hasn't quite been tamed underneath. Through the branches, you can make out every single leaf, a million different shades of green represented in one tree. Beyond it, a sky so big and blue, it seems you can see the curvature of the earth. The grass is nearly waist high and waves in the breeze, back and forth. It conceals you from view, not that there is anyone other than your beloved within miles, but it feels so sheltered and secluded. A plate of cold fried chicken sits next to you. A glass of crisp white wine perches on a tray, along with some apples, grapes and sharp cheese. You talk about your dreams. About the novel living inside you. And you build a story framed by that tree. You while away the afternoon, nibbling, talking, planning, taking it in.
Can you see it?
What's your ideal picnic? Please link up directly to your Field Trip Friday post!
Oh yes, I can see it. I feel the breeze - it's a gentle coolness on my warm arms. The soft blanket disguises the sharp prickles of the grass underneath. The leaves on the tree above me dance with the wind, sunlight glinting through here and there. I close my eyes against it, and smell the chicken, the cheese; I write the next lines of my novel in my head.
ReplyDeleteThen I feel a tiny something on my arm. I swat at it. A minute later, it's back. I open my eyes, raise my arm, and it's a spider! A huge gray grass spider! I jump up, brushing it off, but it's disappeared. Where'd it go? Is it dead? Stunned? Hiding, plotting revenge? Gotta get outta here, I think in a panic. I begin gathering up the blanket and the food, Ants are crawling all over my fried chicken leg and the cheese is all soft and runny from the hot sun. I haven't been noticing how dark it's becoming until all of a sudden, the first drops of rain hit my forehead...
No, just kidding! It really is a lovely little moment you've described, and I ADORE picnics! You've inspired me to get the family together and have one before the air is too chilly to do so!
Hi!
ReplyDeleteThis is Sarah over from thepenteks.blogspot. I would be honored to write a post about Des Moines and Iowa. Let me know how and when you'd like it to be completed. You can e-mail me @ sarah.pentek@gmail.com or leave a comment on the blog, whatever works. Thanks!