It rained during the day--a fresh, mountain rain. By evening, the world was damp, covered in the glistening green of newly watered nature. The rain, having done its job, let up, and slowly we gathered down in the grotto. We used the driest wood we could find and slowly began to build. Small twigs were placed first, gradually adding larger sticks, and eventually broken branches. Large logs were gathered to create stools, these encircling the pit. Still people slowly gathered.
The evening was calm, conversational, quiet. A bonfire lends itself to stories and to humor. Innumerable discussions intersected throughout the evening. A small grill grate was placed over the open flame of the pit and we continued to talk, to laugh, to enjoy, over the smell of cooking burgers and hotdogs. As Ray Bradbury wrote in Dandelion Wine, “Sandwich outdoors isn’t a sandwich anymore. Tastes different than
indoors, notice? Got more spice. Tastes like mint and pinesap. Does
wonders for the appetite.” The same is true of burgers and dogs. The same is true of conversation.
The evening settled into night around the fire. People came and went, seats were traded, and all the while the cool, wet, mountain air kissed the warm breathing of the flames. Welcome to summer, that kiss said. Welcome to community, it said. Welcome to a world worth living and working and simply being in.
---
This summer I'm working in Cherokee, North Carolina for the Cherokee Historical Association at the Mountainside Theatre, performing in their historical drama Unto These Hills. We've been rehearsing for a couple weeks now and open at the end of this week. Last night we had the first bonfire of the summer, and it was definitely my pace. I look forward to many more wonderful days and experiences during my time here. This blog will hopefully be where I share a bit of what I'm up to publicly.
