Here is a little story for you.
Once upon a time, after the horse races, some good friends decided to go to Dairy Queen for some light summertime refreshment of the beverage sort. One of them ordered chocolate chunkiness. One of them ordered a smoothie. One of them ordered something else that was unremarkable. And one of them ordered something pretending to be lemonade but was actually a sugarbomb.
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Then they got in the car and listened to Gotye and other angry girl music. As they whizzed down the road with the windows down and the speakers up, they passed
beautiful forested properties and some
really big houses which seemed really too big to ever want to live in but seemed majestic and somehow covet-worthy all the same.
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They came across
fields of marshmallows but elected not to stop and pluck them.
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After they had journeyed for awhile, going around bends effortlessly in German-engineered grace, they alit at Grandmother's House, which was open and smelled of good things and seemed wholesome and wonderful in the way that only good old people can. There were even peppermint patties in the special "secret" pot on the bookshelf. They knew Grandma didn't even like peppermint patties - she just kept a stock of them around for the sentimentality of it, knowing it brought the kids and grandkids pleasure.
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Then, after borrowing some jackets in various shapes, fabrics, and sizes (because all good Grandmas have a stock of the essential things in life for when their grandkids come by unannounced), the Foursome set off to frolic.
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They ended up passing the Wicked Metal Gates, and stopped to do an experiment to see what it would feel like to be wicked, and/or metal, gates. But the gates couldn't keep them from the river, with its sandstone bottom and tiny jumping fish.
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Armed with only flip-flops (3), flats (1) sunglasses (3) jackets (4) and smartphones (1) as weapons, they marched into the forest, listening to music and calling out to each other as they made their way toward the river.
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When they arrived there was plenty to do:
1. skip rocks 2. ponder 3. take pictures of themselves
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Then one of the foursome fell into a trap: unwarranted preening via picture. She got what she deserved because one of the other four snuck up on her and poked fun. It happened so easily...like one...two...three.
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Then they breathed the joy of life into the river and a blanket of mist arose, spreading quickly, like a ray of sunshine or a patch of morning glory.
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And the foursome gloried in the strength of summertime sunsets, fantastic friends, and rambling rivers, and celebrated the mist, the season, and their camaraderie with yoga moves, conjuring tricks, and other serious nonsense.
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After their River Respite, the little band wandered back to the road. At one point the tiny path seemed to converge on itself and go only in circles and the merriment was momentarily dampened as memories were consulted and the Road More Traveled was found. There were biting bugs and snagging shrubbery and beautiful berries involved. The one in the dress decided that forest-wandering perhaps is not best done in a skirt.
The girls trundled along the road until they came to a bridge - the gateway to the field. They couldn't contain themselves, and right there and then, they began to frolic. It wasn't the frolic of small goats, or fireflies, schools of fish, or flocks of birds darting in flight. It was somewhere between galloping and leaping and cavorting and every other good movement descriptor thingie.
And then they moved on, and frolicked in the field, which you can see in all its blurry glory to the right, and if you look past the road below, you'll be able to see it. It was mown down to about 9" tall, mostly, and then there was a perimeter that had been mowed further - a single mower-width of shorter grass.
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The girls abandoned the pavement and were leaping about, trying to click their heels in front of them (awkward and not very safe), behind them (foolish, but quite entertaining to watch) and to the side (that really works best).
Two of them went ahead, shouting as they ran toward the river, their enthusiasm making their companions, who trailed behind talking of childhood memories, smile. When they got to the river there were even more adventures than before: there were periwinkles to be found (tiny bugs) and tiny fish jumping. The girls waded into the river, letting the biting cold water wash over their hot feet, marveling at the efficiency of entropy. (See fallen tree trunk, below.) Turns out they didn't need the coats - the temperature was perfect.
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As the stars started to come out and the moon rose, the girls turned for the road, herded by the park ranger. They were done frolicking - now they walked sedately. No trip-trapping over the bridge...it was more like trailing as they ran out of steam. (Well, only one ran out of steam...no prizes if you guess who.)
Then they went back to Grandmother's House, where they were fed and watered, and quite happily stayed to talk about China and Chairman Mao, adopted babies, and family news.
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Retracing the curves they had previously traversed, they were full of quiet content. One of them even fell asleep in the backseat, just as she would have when she was a little girl. It was cute. And then the evening was over and the realities of life crept back in, just a little bit. But the Frolicking Foursome had made one darn good idyllic summertime memory in the process.
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