summer begins

this morning the skies are once again rumbling and tumbling. i can just now begin to hear the rain beat on the deck outside. radar shows a strong storm overhead and strecthing up to southern Iowa and back to the west. i believe i am just on the edge of it.

i did attend the sweat last evening. i had prepared a potatoe salad with the sauteed scapes earlier in the day, even though i had already decided i would be staying home. i wasn't in the mood for a large gathering. i was perfectly content with a beer and my book.

but around 5:30 a friend stopped by and convinced me i still needed more social flutterbying. so i cleaned up, loaded up and headed down the road.

it turned out to be a wonderful evening. only eight people for the cookout. perfect! we sat in the shade with a nice breeze and shared wonderful stories. at one point the conversation shifted to my earlier life as a river diver. as i answered questions and related diving experiences i was amazed at how much came back to me. it had been so long ago. it truly was an earlier life.

while Dan grilled, two us walked down thru the orchard to the pond where the "lodge" was. we built a large, hot fire and placed 15 to 20 large stones between the logs and over the flames. our roasting stones would be ready in a couple of hours.

after a delicious dinner, after the clean-up, and after our good-byes to the departing couple from Illinois, the remaining six of us again took the trail thru the orchard. it was dark by then and our path was lit only by the stars and the fireflies, with the coals from the fire glowing down by the pond.

the lodge is more of a domed, make-shift shanty covered with blankets, tarps and an old tent. there is a pit in the center of it where the hot stones from the fire were placed. we disrobed and, one-by-one, crawled out of the heat and into the fire.

the six of us barely fit in a cirlcle around the pit. it was dark. it was hot. it was a sweat. Cherie began in a soft voice. she spoke of the air we breath. water from a mason jar was flicked on the hot stones. we could hear the hiss. we could feel the heat. Dan spoke of the earth. more water. more hissing. more heat. a woman from Wisconsin spoke of the solstice. water, hissing, heat. The mason jar was passed to me. "You who are out there. You are my Dog Star. My Sirius. You are..." I flicked water on the stones.

the coolness of the pond water was wonderful. a midnight swim. i thought there should have been a full moon. but there were the stars. and all those fireflies. and a display of lightning far to the north, somewhere over Iowa.