Potluck Moments

Last night we had a potluck dinner out on the CoHo walkway. Everyone brought out tables and chairs. Yummy food appeared. It was a beautiful, cool evening with all the wonderful components of a perfect summer picnic.

I stood in the midst of it all, holding a half-empty bottle of Leela Devi's homemade Sweet Chery Mead. I'd been serving out tastes of the 10-year-old beverage, eliciting appreciative responses. Most of the eating was finished. Beside me Jeremy sawed out a soulful tune on his fiddle. Looking up the path toward the fallen old oak tree, I saw people chatting and milling about. Beer had been brewing in a heated vat. The serving tables still held plenty of tasty food. I turned my gaze west toward the Common House where children chased each other with handfuls of clover. One girl was in a tutu, another flaunted the gown of a princess, and another wore almost nothing. Scooters and tricycles weaved in and out.

There was so much motion and energy and such a variety of noises, I thought I could catch an interesting video shot -- one great sweeping pan of kinetic frenetics with the violin player in the middle. I scurried off to get my camera. When I returned, I asked Jeremy to play the same thing again. He agreed to play something else, and that was okay.

Alas my batteries were dead, and the moment passed with only these coarse words as documentation.