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Pinewoods 1: Deluge and new dark water
Jul. 20th, 2008 04:48 pmHere's how it was Friday night: sitting on the end of the dock, eating a packet of vanilla creme cookies, watching the sky over the hills across the pond explode with long stalking-legs of light. I was grouchy, tired of people and just tired, but the booms and the rumbles in the sky sucked the booms and the rumbles out of my chest, and by the time the first drops peppered me I was feeling at peace.
Everyone else was dancing in the big open pavilion, called C#. Seeking solitude, I'd already moved all the towels in off the camp house porch and carried my guitar to Pinecones in advance of that night's party. I'd forgotten my flashlight, but I didn't need it on the trails because the sky stutteringly flashbulbed them for me every few seconds. That was when I sat on the tau-shaped dock, feeling exposed and proffered, and watched the slow coming. When the rain finally came, I leapt up and flew on tiptoes, quick as a doe, down the wood-chipped path to C#, to arrive just as the sky tore open. The lights blinked off, and then back on, and the dancers kept dancing; the sound system went off, leaving only a soft thread of fiddle in the air, and the dancers kept dancing. Those who weren't scampered around the edges, bringing in the bags from their hooks, moving the sound system away from the eave-cataracts.
Later, after the last waltz was done and we'd all sung Auld Lang Syne, I crept barefoot down the soft-needled path from my cabin to the pond, and swam naked under a full moon. The mist from the newly increased water was rising all around.
Everyone else was dancing in the big open pavilion, called C#. Seeking solitude, I'd already moved all the towels in off the camp house porch and carried my guitar to Pinecones in advance of that night's party. I'd forgotten my flashlight, but I didn't need it on the trails because the sky stutteringly flashbulbed them for me every few seconds. That was when I sat on the tau-shaped dock, feeling exposed and proffered, and watched the slow coming. When the rain finally came, I leapt up and flew on tiptoes, quick as a doe, down the wood-chipped path to C#, to arrive just as the sky tore open. The lights blinked off, and then back on, and the dancers kept dancing; the sound system went off, leaving only a soft thread of fiddle in the air, and the dancers kept dancing. Those who weren't scampered around the edges, bringing in the bags from their hooks, moving the sound system away from the eave-cataracts.
Later, after the last waltz was done and we'd all sung Auld Lang Syne, I crept barefoot down the soft-needled path from my cabin to the pond, and swam naked under a full moon. The mist from the newly increased water was rising all around.
