Frying Pan Salad

The headlights barely make out twenty feet into the mist filled darkness on enchanted forest road.  We've spent all day getting here. On airplanes, in cars, across the great water on a ferry filled with cars. We end up at a remodeled fishing cabin, waves lapping upon the rock beach.

The night is pitch black. The moisture sucks the light. Unlike my clear desert nights, full of sharpened stars. The moisture permeates everything. Seafoam green moss drips from bare trees, vibrant green moss grows up tree trunks and across forest floors. 

I spend time in kitschy cabins. In one, a brass eagle, wings spread, escapes from a frame. In another a giant 3 feet diameter "frying pan" hangs near the wood burning stove. The kitchen is a challenge. At least 4 cooks prepare contributions for the group meal. Two of us rummage through the cabinets for a bowl big enough for an 18 person salad. None is to be found. 

Suddenly, the three foot diameter frying pan appears in the kitchen. It's been removed from the peg on the wall. We clean it as best we can and proceed to fill it with lettuces, tomatoes, peppers, avocados and other veggies. It takes up a good third of the Thanksgiving sized dining table.

Outside, the grass is moist and cool. Fresh and clean. My skin soaks in the water. My soul soaks in the expansion. I can't help but think about the future.  Watching the ripples in the water. Shades of grey in an overcast sky. Green-black mountain outlines.  A black  bobbing head. 

Something inside me has changed. I've got new focuses for 2011. Echoes and voices I've suppressed - put off. Things must shift and change. And they are.

Comments

[You know Who!]

Beautifully written!!