Under a Dreamsickle moon!
We decided to accept. It is not everyday that someone invites us to go out on a local lake to watch the full moon rise while we are lazing in our kayaks. Of course, Lee was involved in this. I am holding her personally responsible.
Possibly a little background music is appropriate here as I think of the Moody Blues. Cut and paste the links into another tab or you will be wisked away by YouTube, maybe never to return.
The Moody Blues Days Of Future Passed 06 Evening_ The Sun Set _ Twilight: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2murynF_kOI
Moody Blues - Sun Set – Twilight: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ca8WTdL-jhY
Moody Blues Evening - Time to Get Away: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zGZKZaWjoV4
The Moody Blues Days Of Future Passed 06 Evening_ The Sun Set _ Twilight: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2murynF_kOI
The Moody Blues - Nights In White Satin´67: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9muzyOd4Lh8
Lee even came to pick us up like the airport limo, except a roof rack on her Element. We met two others of our small flotilla back at Lee’s manse and gathered a few things that were needed but forgotten when the vehicles were loaded. They were little things, except for that one life vest short that by law was required in the War Canoe to make us legal. A couple of extra lights for that just in case factor might come in handy. Even with the full moon it might get a little dark. We had thunder storms all around us that afternoon. We expected maybe to be disappointed by the extra clouds still in the sky and on the horizon.
When we got to the city park we off loaded the kayaks from the Element and the canoe from rack on the truck. Bob had the huge aluminum War Canoe and entered the woods before us headed for the launch site. There was a lot of booming and bouncing. I wondered if he had fallen or if he was taking a Nantucket sleigh ride down the hill through the woods to the ramp.
We set the kayaks down and I went through the inkiness of the woods to investigate. Bob decided to drag the War Canoe because it was easier. I think too maybe in an effort to avoid all of the overhead branches.
The path through the woods down to the boat ramp was drab, devoid of all color. It was not barren of insects though. Every exhalation of CO2 brought more and more to swarm around our heads. These bloodthirsty demoniac flocks were no less intent on our demise than vultures on the Serengeti. They attacked with the unswerving devotion of or ravens to road kill. Every swat at them was like a car coming down the highway. They would deftly evade and then crash back to their meal. No fewer than four brands of mosquito attractant offered little assistance.
When we were launching it was better to breathe through the nose than swallow large numbers of fanatical parasites hovering around our mouths, intent on sucking every last drop of our blood. These are the vampires of the arthropod world.
Mercifully there was a slight breeze over the lake that chased these carriers of equine encephalitis away. The waft’s cooling vapors were just above the glassine surface. It blew our attackers toward the woods. The light drafts assisted the bats, swooping in their black beauty almost invisible in the colorless sky. When I dipped my hand into the lake it was like bathwater. There were no mosquitoes there but I quickly took it out after thinking for a few seconds.
We got out on the lake just in time. The sun was making its irrevocable exit behind the trees. There were just enough clouds to reflect the last rays of the pink orange glow as it dipped down and disappeared.
Lee’s little kayak accompanied the War Canoe. They paddled in the opposite direction from the sunset toward where the moon would be making its appearance. We hung back a little basking in the last rays of dusk; enjoying a sunset that we thought was at least as beautiful as the moon rise could possibly be.
When it got full dusk there was slight hint that it had been light earlier that day. The darkness was almost absolute as the moon started peeking slowly over the hill of trees at the other end of the lake. Millimeter by millimeter a small bit of that glorious orb made itself known. We clapped after the Grand Finale. It became a full disk in the evening sky gradually getting smaller. There was not a cloud in the heavens between us and the moonrise.
The remnants of the thunderstorms were still off in the north. The electric discharge echoed off the high clouds of the storm. Nature’s Van de Graaff Generator was busy and making a lot of noise. We could hear a boom after each burst of light. Counting between the visible flash and the sound of the thunder I figured the storm was at least ten miles north of us. If it started coming closer we would head back to the cars. I had checked the radar before leaving the house on my trusty laptop. It looked as if the storm would keep its distance.
We heard the approaching train far in the distance warning those that might try to race it through a crossing. It was a long time getting there. We could only see hints of the circling front spotlight as it crashed down the tracks on the north shore of the lake behind the trees and the island that tried to conceal it. We did not have a twofer it was more like a fourfer or fivefer if you counted the company we kept.
The moon was still that magnificent dreamsickle orange. We talked about the Good Humor Man and his bells and the music and tastes of our youth. The contemplation of a dreamsickle made me salivate like the bells had in the past… for me and Pavlov’s dogs.
Pregnant and low over the horizon the moon laid there casting a reflection across the water directly to the bow of my kayak. It looked as if I could paddle right up the moonbeam to its source. It also cast barely enough light to illuminate the large gator that was stalking us. He was quite a BigBoy and we were invading his neighborhood. He crept closer and faded back raising his entire back out of the water into the moonlit nite in his territorial display. Not everybody was happy about this. Certainly the gator was not.
I challenged him once. He withdrew. He again slithered in and got even closer than before. The War Canoe, only slightly longer than AL was pressed in for an attack. It was only a bluff but the gator made a huge splash and ruckus. He crash dived to make his escape. It was loud in the stillness of the full moon.
Again he came toward us like a U-Boat with a convoy in its sights making the surface attack. I raced off toward him slapping my paddle against the surface of the calm lake. I thought of some of the sub chasers in WWII that were smaller than their prey. Again he slapped the water with his huge tail as he went under.
“Snap out of it!”
I thought of Cher and the wooden hand. I did not want to abandon our post but more sensibly I did not want to be the prey. We navigated our small fleet slowly, easing off toward the shore. The coconut cream pie colored disc was getting more elevated in the sky. It had lost its orange color.
After the debate we determined it turned from dreamsickle flavored to my favorite pie in the world, all the way to Muenster cheese and then Monterey Jack. Unquestionably the moon was made of cheese. It did not disappoint.
We worked on our moon tans a bit longer until Luna was significantly higher in the sky. None of us seem to remember too much of Seléne despite all the Humanities and mythology in college. We paddled back toward the ramp and the inevitable insect assault.
We got home late and decided that if one of the Minit Markets on the way home did have Dreamsickles that they would in all probability be freezer burned… not at all like the ones we cherished as kids or dreamt of earlier when the moon burst over the horizon. Dreamsickles had to wait either until we heard the Good Humor man or loaded the kayaks for another full moon challenge of that resident ALimerGator.
We stowed the kayaks and I took DakotaDawg out for her last evening visit in the yard. We were pretty bushed. My back hurt a little from sitting in that Kayak. It was certainly time to hit the rack. I got a mosquito bite. Darn those things are itchy.
I got up, made the coffee and went out to get the paper. I got three more mosquito bites. I realized that what someone said last nite was probably quite true. Who needed insect repellant if I was there.
After Sunday breakfast DakotaDawg and I took our morning constitutional around the golf course. DakotaDawg nosed every tree, every possible place where the code messages might have been left for her. Her brain was working like a fine tuned Enigma.
We saw the Saturday nite beloved dropped off in front of their houses, last kisses until next time. The Saturday nite Casanova’s drove by in their pickups. At least Bullitt would get a chance to go inside and could get some sleep.
A bicycle built for two was swept up by the peloton as they pedaled the small hills of our downtown urban forest historic neighborhood. The little girl on the scooter who lives around the corner loudly announced to her mother that that was DakotaDawg. Her mother confirmed the observation as she plodded across the golf course headed for the Country Club pool.
A swallowtail butterfly moseyed around in front of our house near last years volunteer butterfly garden. The just fledged cardinal with his scarlet head hopped from bush to bush.
I unlocked the front door of the air conditioned splendor of our ancient house just as another mosquito nailed me on my right earlobe.
The not So Cute Little Orange Talking Kitty greeted us at the door announcing that someone very inconsiderately had left his food bowl on the counter after vacuuming up the excess kitty and dawg hair that threatened to swallow us up if not dealt with by that loud obnoxious floor sucker and rug beater. The school of pond fish enjoyed their morning repast thrashing around in joy to see it was not the Great Blue Heron. Jaws snapped up every fish shaped cat food kibble after kibble I offered him.
Only problem is I can’t get the sound of Dean Martin outta my head.
“In Napoli where love is king
When boy meets girl here's what they say…
When the moon hits you eye like a big pizza pie
That's amore.
When the world seems to shine like you've had too much wine
That's amore.
Bells will ring ting-a-ling-a-ling, ting-a-ling-a-ling
And you'll sing "Vita bella"
Hearts will play tippy-tippy-tay, tippy-tippy-tay
Like a gay tarantella.
When the stars make you drool just like a pasta fazool
That's amore.
When you dance down the street with a cloud at your feet
You're in love.
When you walk down in a dream but you know you're not
Dreaming signore
Scuzza me, but you see, back in Tallahassee
That's amore.”
I am sorry for this - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rtmsIq0-T54
It includes the Jerry Lewis part…
These are the Good Old Days. “That’s amore.” Living under a Dreamsickle Moon!
© 06.27.2010 steven d philbrick SR+ DakotaDawg
POSTED BY SRPLUS AT 10:25 AM 0 COMMENTS
This is a picture of the Gator that I am pretty sure was inviting us out of his pond last nite. I took this picture in January 2007 as he was sunning on the island across from the boat ramp when he was only about 12' long. I think he was waiting for small kayaks he might eat for lunch. Last nite he acted a lot like he wanted a midnite snack. We did not hang around that long.
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