A Picnic in the Park

It was a lovely day, almost Spring, and the sun was shining after the last night's rain. I decided to get out and enjoy the day after spending a hefty portion of the week cooped up inside my office. I threw a novel, pencil and paper, my camera, and a peanut butter sandwich into a bag and headed to the park. I envisioned myself having a Thoreau -esque experience, basking in the inspiration of nature, writing and reading on the banks of the park's streams.

I arrived feeling optimistic. The air was brisk. I turned my face toward the sunshine and the pleasant breeze, taking it all in before I set out on a trail to enjoy a nice walk and find the perfect spot for my creative paradise. As I rounded the bend of the trail, I saw that the aforementioned rains had caused the park's streams to runneth over and flood the trail. “No worries,” I thought to myself. “I'll just go around it.”

I walked off the trail, through the grass, successfully circumventing the watery path. Then, I stepped into some tall grass, and my foot sank into the cold, muddy water. My heart was not far behind it. I was up to my ankles, and I could find no dry ground to stand on. I trudged out of the swampy mess and started back to my car, feeling defeated. My shoes and socks squished beneath my feet.

As I neared the parking lot, I decided not to leave until I'd done what I'd come for and enjoyed my day off, writing in the beauty of nature. No wet shoes were going to ruin my day! I sat at a picnic table to have my sandwich and compose the masterpiece I'd intended.

In the shady covering of the pavilion, the wind whipped around my soggy feet. The pages of my notebook flapped wildly. As I sat, cramming peanut butter sandwich into my mouth and trying to enjoy my solitude, two men stepped under the pavilion with their dogs and tried to strike up some conversation. I smiled and nodded, but didn't say much in effort to politely hint that I would prefer to focus on my writing than to engage in friendly chit chat. They mosied on out, and I again took pencil to paper.

I soon became distracted again by a lady with white earphones who had arrived at the park around the same time I had. She kept be-bopping past me in her walking garb. Her feet looked smugly dry. The sun shone on her bouncy brown hair. I watched her through squinted eyes, hunched over in the shadows, shivering, and doing my best to keep the moisture inside my nose.

“I drove all the way out here; I'm going to enjoy nature, dagnabbit!” I stepped away from my seat at the table and into the sunshine in search of comforting warmth. The wind continued to mock me and blew my belongings off the table. I chased them down, muttering and cursing the day and my stupid love of stupid nature. I left the park, cold and grumpy, and the only thing I was inspired to write was this crummy blog.