The Setting

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There are no remnants of last night's finery, romantic lighting and the supple heat of promised encounters has given way to a freshness that only Spring can bring about. The steadily budding branches of the trees are decorated with strings of brilliantly colored flowers and crepe streamers that easily float upon the breeze. The heavenly scents of barbecue sauce, roasting meat and peppers carry far, projecting the aura of 'picnic' like nothing else can.

A maypole the size of a young Redwood tree dominates the very center of the glen, ribbons in varying colors draping down like hair to the ground to flutter in the breeze or be caught by many hands and twirled about through the air. A team of three wistful females dressed in flowing green with creamy skin and musical laughter continuously prances and sashays around the maypole, coaxing would be dancers into the festivities with an inviting smile and a crooked finger. They don't seem to mind the activity being a couple days late.

Nearby, two string quartets provide the afternoon's ambiance, dressed much like the nymphs that dance not too far away. The men sport white poet's shirts with ruffled collars and cuffs, and emerald green pantaloons. The women dazzle in seafoam green wraps, their hair coiled with garlands of baby's breath. Everyone, as befitting an outdoor picnic, has abandoned the idea of footwear.

Pastel blankets weighted down by smooth rocks begin to speckle the lawn some distance away from the maypole providing many broad and clean places of relaxation to bring one's food or to rest one's feet. Each site comes equipped with a mountain of fluffy pillows to lounge against and enjoy the day.

Overhead, across the periwinkle sky (not entirely the product of nature of the planning committee had anything to say about it), specks of color dart and dodge in time with the breeze. Kites. They range in spectacularity from several foot long dragons that breathe literal fire to the simplest, most mundane creations; diamonds with a tail of ribbons tied to the string. The city's kitemakers have offered their skills, services and knowledge to those willing to try their hand at crafting their own. Kites, and myriad other wares, are still for sale in a small alcove of the glen with merchants reluctant to give up merely because of the lackadaisical atmosphere.

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The Activities

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What would be a Sunday outing without entertainment?

Several swaths of the glen's lawn have been left clear for activities. Raised ramps with cut out holes stand next to each other for those willing to try their aim with a bean bag. Archery targets have been attached to tree trunks a little further out of the way to guard against any wayward arrows. Lanes three feet wide and several feet long have been erected to guide races that include, but aren't limited to egg, three legged and potato sack with plenty of room for a combatant's cheerleaders to join in on the fun.

Winding paths made out of flat grey stone lead away into the forest for those seeking much more leisurely ways to pass the time. One need only grab a basket from the table stationed at the edge of the woods and venture through the trees on a quest for berries or flowers or, for the less adventurous, a scenic stroll through Mother Nature's glory.

There is a lack of urgency even to these activities, ever perpetuating rest, relaxation, freedom from strain, worry and stress.

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