Rabbits and Dillos and Deer, Oh My!

Summer Weekend Perfection starts with a Saturday morning bike ride along a canopied forest trail. A hot summer sun saunas you on those short breaks of canopy come some open meadow here and there. The pace you want to keep is barn burner fast. As fast as you can stand.

Along the way you see touches of wildlife bounding from edge of forest and meadow. Deer, armadillo, maybe a rabbit; things that get by on edges that demarque the tamely populated wild lands from savage socially ambitious suburbs. Real loner predators of the 1850s prairie range, like cougars and jaguars, they got edged out long ago by adaptive, more agressive non-native species - like packs of feral hogs (escaped after import by careless European settlers) and suburban tract developers (mere roadside dump by irresponsible vacationers from Hell who abandon unwanted pets before returning home).

So we got... Rabbits and Dillos and Deer, Oh My!

Whoop de poopy doo doo; but hey, that is all that is left, so that is what is; and we are where we are. But all is/can be holy if still in grace with the Creator or a sentient observer. At the ride's end is a spring fed river whose banks are lined with shade trees. Lucky you, the trail ends right next to an outdoor camp site with grill, and...

Omigod, archbishop's chamberpot Batman - the park is hosting an outdoor Egyptian belly dancer convention! Striped tents, thrumming drums, snake dancers, jackpot!

Looky looky at the wind, it too enchanted by the prospects of this event. See how it flows round those silken gossamer clad dancing does. See that rush of air over the skin and the slay of their hair spin. Who's the enticer and who's the enticed here? Wind whips gladly as it flirts. World and dancer each smugly believing they are the enhancer of this dance - but both act in concert to make the felt breeze as strong between as the two can stand and not unmake their embrace. In short: a whole lotta thumping jumping and writhing going on.

Coast your knobby tired ride to a stop, do a trick dismount to one foot on the pedal before step splashing down into the shock chilly water that is willy nilly crashing off rocks. Rocks that laugh wet and hearty, a laugh that invites you in. Go in and under all the way, go back to a womb of awakening water and hold your breath like before you were born. Practice bursting out into a new world using legs thrust up on unsure footing atop slippery gravel smoothed by eons of river time.

Walk yourself and your bike out to the river edge, soaked to skin and briefly shiver cold to look for campfire wood. Even if Glad Sandwich baggies leaked river water on your marshmallows and Graham Crackers, you can still stand tall to speak without apology to the wood gods living by this River. Declare your petition as you search for kindling: "S'more, Sirs. Can we please make S'Mores." If you are polite and firm you will find fuel to make the heat you seek.

For yet your stash of dark bittersweet chocolate remains unharmed. And while there is chocolate there is the bittersweet - hard bought wisdom and immanent joy. Think those Arabesque conventioneers at the camp site next door might trade for chocolate in exchange for dry graham crackers and fresh marshmallows?

Your day has started out right and the sun is not yet as high as you feel; so go forth on this gambit and ask brazenly, haggle. It's a venal sin if you hesitate. Worse if you balk. Mortal if you only talk in your head to yourself, and walk away without cutting a deal with the dervish devils next door. So go cross a camp site line into the world next door and ask, bargain, charm, be charmed. Offer to play by refusing lightly, but only temporarily. Time is wasting and there's no need to go fasting.

This ain't ocean front, it's the river and even if it were a beach, there's no way to gather sand underfoot and stuff it into your own drained hourglass anyway.