What a wonderful celebration we just attended! We had already gone to a family mini-birthday party for our 8-year-old granddaughter on Wednesday, but tonight was the camp out, weiner roast and adventure party planned to include her school friends and other friends of the family.
The odds of it actually happening were not very high, what with wintry, wet weather the past few days. But today, springtime returned with a benevolent sun and southern breezes. We had really not planned to go, but when my husband heard the word, "hotdogs," he was up for it.
We drove up to a scene of remarkable beauty and rustic charm. The "lake," the beneficiary of recent spring rains, spread wide and full in its picturesque curve, ripples lapping at the canoe silhouetted in the evening light as it was paddled, Pocahontas-like, by our daughter-in-law with her little Indian princess occupants.
Other adults sat visiting on lawn furniture and smooth stumps that circled a firepit where wieners and marshmallows would be roasted later. We were on the verdant, grassy pasture slope of our son's farm. A tent had been set up for the birthday campout, but first, rides on a sled pulled by the four-wheeler were enjoyed by the kids, logs of fallen trees had to be balanced on, and exploratory walks along the pond banks had to be taken.
"Look at these logs!" I said to my husband. They were lying in smooth repose, having lost their bark to an insect infestation. "Look at the pattern on the wood!" I exclaimed. The worm trails cut into their surfaces looked like some kind of ancient heiroglyphics covering the length of the logs. They were beautiful! I'd like to have a thin section for wall art for my living room! My friend took a picture, and the flat image on her phone screen could have been a framed masterpiece!
We feasted our eyes on the panorama before us of horses grazing peacefully on the opposite shore, the sparkling water and the wide blue sky above with a pale white moon riding high, ready to give its light when the golden sun sank beneath the horizon.
By that time, we had feasted on cook-out food and were sticky from blackened marshmallows, so we headed home, wondering how long the brave ones and their chaperones would stick it out before they carried their sleeping bags into the farmhouse with four walls and a roof and a crackling fireplace as the night grew chilly. Sleeping under the stars viewed through the mesh screens of the tent roof might prove a little premature, but at least the little braves would have been initiated into the delights of the coming season. God surely has beautiful party venues!
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