There was always a stretch of beach. The deep cove and outlet from the natural watershed created a beautiful place where Birds hunted, conversed and mated. Fish Hawks were doing their incredible ballet hovering for the perfect dive for dinner below. The Sun was still in the low sky, but even he would sink into the horizon within the next couple of hours.
Stan and Shine pulled in behind the Molinas' Bakery van. Stan tried the door, Mabelle lay on the floor of the van. Linda had the doors locked, so the tall man and tiny girl carried the Watermelon and basket of Tomatoes to the beach. Stan whistled. Dumpling recognized the familiar trill of his call and waved.
Slates of cut and ocean-worn Trees piled and lined the beach. Many tides come and go over a year's cycle of Moon and Sun. Balancing with the Watermelon made things interesting for Stan. Shine was a girl, with fearless balance and agile feet. She bounced from log to log.
With sides of Trees for backrests an old quilt was laid with the goodies for a picnic. The water tempted Shine to its edges. Her mother joined her, and the two went barefoot into the later summer warmth of Salish Sea. Stan folded himself next to Dumpling. The two kissed. "Now where were we," the musician ran his hands through the waves of Dumpling's black and white curls. "Old people kissing on a summer beach. What would the neighbors say!" She wasn't prudish, that was a trait she'd traded up at thirty. A couple of teenagers weren't far from their blanket. One of them recognized Stan from the Farmer's Market. She blushed, Stan finished the one kiss, and winked in the girl's direction, then said, "Hey Casey." Rather than flee the girls headed right toward them.
"Hey Mr. Costa." Casey was one of three daughters who helped their parents -- also farmers -- at the Monday market. Come September the girls would be in school. Casey's family, old school, showed respect for elders: called Mr. or Mrs. or Uncle or Aunty. No first names. Affectionate displays? That was a different story, and always encouraged. So kissing Dumpling was a bright green light for Casey.
Stan introduced Dumpling, "Casey, this is my very good friend Dumpling Woman." Dumpling leaned into Stan and smiled one of her award-winners. "Glad to meet you Casey. And your friend?"
"This is my girlfriend, Sara Mott." The emphasis was on girl and with the extra squeeze of their hands it was clear these were young sweethearts. "How nice to meet you both." Stan and Dumpling meant that. "We're having a picnic, care to join us we've got plenty! And I know our friends will love the company." Stan had something very special to share with Linda Molinas, but it was the sort of thing that is not best if kept a secret. The spreading around of his findings was essential.
"Are you sure?" Casey didn't want to overstep her welcome.
"Oh course we're sure. And, aren't you the girl with that Sparrow Song voice and wicked fingers on the mandolin?" Stan was thanking the Guardians for the arrival of young women to add to this unexpected upside-down sunset. Shine saw the girls perch on the logs behind the quilt. Linda M saw them too, and wondered. Shine dispelled any fear that might have dulled the spark in her mother's eyes. She signed "Company for a picnic," and pulled her mother's hand in the direction of the growing party.
Stan and Shine pulled in behind the Molinas' Bakery van. Stan tried the door, Mabelle lay on the floor of the van. Linda had the doors locked, so the tall man and tiny girl carried the Watermelon and basket of Tomatoes to the beach. Stan whistled. Dumpling recognized the familiar trill of his call and waved.
Slates of cut and ocean-worn Trees piled and lined the beach. Many tides come and go over a year's cycle of Moon and Sun. Balancing with the Watermelon made things interesting for Stan. Shine was a girl, with fearless balance and agile feet. She bounced from log to log.
With sides of Trees for backrests an old quilt was laid with the goodies for a picnic. The water tempted Shine to its edges. Her mother joined her, and the two went barefoot into the later summer warmth of Salish Sea. Stan folded himself next to Dumpling. The two kissed. "Now where were we," the musician ran his hands through the waves of Dumpling's black and white curls. "Old people kissing on a summer beach. What would the neighbors say!" She wasn't prudish, that was a trait she'd traded up at thirty. A couple of teenagers weren't far from their blanket. One of them recognized Stan from the Farmer's Market. She blushed, Stan finished the one kiss, and winked in the girl's direction, then said, "Hey Casey." Rather than flee the girls headed right toward them.
"Hey Mr. Costa." Casey was one of three daughters who helped their parents -- also farmers -- at the Monday market. Come September the girls would be in school. Casey's family, old school, showed respect for elders: called Mr. or Mrs. or Uncle or Aunty. No first names. Affectionate displays? That was a different story, and always encouraged. So kissing Dumpling was a bright green light for Casey.
Stan introduced Dumpling, "Casey, this is my very good friend Dumpling Woman." Dumpling leaned into Stan and smiled one of her award-winners. "Glad to meet you Casey. And your friend?"
"This is my girlfriend, Sara Mott." The emphasis was on girl and with the extra squeeze of their hands it was clear these were young sweethearts. "How nice to meet you both." Stan and Dumpling meant that. "We're having a picnic, care to join us we've got plenty! And I know our friends will love the company." Stan had something very special to share with Linda Molinas, but it was the sort of thing that is not best if kept a secret. The spreading around of his findings was essential.
"Are you sure?" Casey didn't want to overstep her welcome.
"Oh course we're sure. And, aren't you the girl with that Sparrow Song voice and wicked fingers on the mandolin?" Stan was thanking the Guardians for the arrival of young women to add to this unexpected upside-down sunset. Shine saw the girls perch on the logs behind the quilt. Linda M saw them too, and wondered. Shine dispelled any fear that might have dulled the spark in her mother's eyes. She signed "Company for a picnic," and pulled her mother's hand in the direction of the growing party.
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