It was the first warm weekend of spring as they packed their picnic basket. The sky was threatening as ominous gray clouds blocked the sun periodically. He broached the subject of postponing but she would have nothing to do with it. She even went so far as to cover her ears and start singing when he mentioned postponing the second time and he knew why. Ever since they stumbled across that secluded spot off the beaten path at a local park a few years ago it had become a tradition with them to worship the warmth with wine, cheese, fruit and crusty French bread. So, grudgingly, he finished the picnic basket and loaded up the car and they were off.
The park was sparsely populated with families, the parents mentally calculating the number of minutes of running, jumping, climbing and swinging necessary to cause their children to collapse in bed that night at a reasonable hour. Joggers navigated the running track that circled the park, a look on their faces as though they really weren't enjoying what they were doing. A few "dog" people were there also, playing fetch with their loyal companions, endlessly tossing tennis balls and Frisbees.
They parked and unloaded. He carried the picnic basket; she toted an old comforter that was just thick enough to be comfortable on the grass. They always took a different route to their spot so no one would ever truly know where they were going. The spot they had come to call their own was practically perfect. There were large trees that provided a canopy of shade as well as a small clearing that seemed to let sun in at all times of the day. The wind whispered through the trees just loud enough to drown out most of the surrounding park noise but every so often the sound of children laughing and playing would drift over to them brightening the smiles that were already on their faces.
She spread out the comforter in the clearing and he put the picnic basket down in one corner. Both were dressed in shorts and T-shirts. He glanced down at their legs. His most definitely showed the effects of lack of sunlight for 5 months while hers sported a nice golden brown glow. She accomplished this by going to a tanning salon, or Fake-n-Bake, as he liked to call them. And for today she enhanced the glow by applying some Tan-in-a-Tube. There was no way she was to be seen in public with white legs.
They kicked off their shoes and lay down on their backs for a minute or two, looking up at the sky. The forecast called for intermittent spring showers not full-blown thunderstorms so he figured the trees would provide enough protection to keep them from getting soaked. She rolled to her side, resting her head in her hand propped up by her elbow, and watched as he unpacked their feast. He spread out the fruit first, bunches of both red and green seedless grapes, some tart granny smith apples, a softball sized navel orange and bowl of large juicy strawberries. He had packed sharp cheddar cheese, a delicate provolone, and a small piece of blue cheese to contrast the sweet fruits. Two small loaves of crusty French bread and a well-chilled bottle of Chardonnay completed the picnic menu.
As they ate, the sun shined brightly and the threat of rain disappeared at least for the time being. Glass by glass the bottle of wine emptied, washing down bites of cheese, bread and fruit. Full and satisfied, the remains of their feast scattered around them, they lay back down, eyes closed, absorbing the warmth of the sun. The splash of a lone raindrop on his forehead startled him and he sat up. He must have dozed off briefly because he failed to notice the sun was now gone and a dark gray cloud hung directly over them.
