I had a north bay vacation filled with food and friends. We found a sunny table in the woods dappled with the shadow of coastal oaks dripping with lacy, sage colored lichen. It is typically foggy there, but sometimes quite sunny – a blue sun with blue skies and ocean rays that casts a timid blue-ish light. In the uncharacteristic heat we sweated beady drops that carried away all the signs of city-stress.
This skin I’m in had forgotten the nature of sunburns and those powerful rays that poaches everything in their hot, hot heat of un-photogenic whiteness. Overexposure is an undesirable thing, I learned.
I took mostly unsuccessful photos while poking at a fire made from charcoal. We spent hours eating food tinged with the carcinogen of smoke and powdery ash. We saw a gray wolf. We watched giant crows. We discussed the benefits of getting lost and using paper maps. As the sun set, the coastal wind came in with its cool saltiness and we drove home in a fading light humming with magic.
In my sweaters soaked with the smell of fire I thought, again. We must do this again.