To Keep the Ants Away

The wind was cool off the water. The waves were lapping gently on the pink beach. The sun was warm but not hot, and for those who sought it there was the shade of the nearby Willow trees.

They had taken their folding chairs down to the water after lunch -- folding chairs and inflatable floats and sand toys and towels. They were well fed from lunch, slathered in sun block, and looking forward to the coolness of a dip.

But whereas most of them had napped and were now gleefully anticipating an afternoon in the sun even as their toes were wiggling in the pink granite sand, he was tired, and the prospect of sitting in the sun (gentle though it was) did not entice him. He excused himself from the group and moved his chair into the shade, where he leaned back and closed his eyes.

A while later, he was joined by one other who perhaps thought the shade was a better plan. Or maybe she just thought he looked lonely sitting there under the Willow trees. She moved her chair and sat down next to him.

And so they sat there together, feet digging into the cool shady sand, facing the breeze that blew off the lake. They sat and watched the others sit. They sat and watched the swimmers swim. And the Willow leaves above them rustled in the wind.

To the left, a second couple stood up from their spot at the water's edge and retreated to another shady spot by a picnic table laden with bottles of drink and opened bags of food. They threw down two towels on the pink sand. As she laid on hers, he walked back to the table and picked up a yellow plastic bottle -- a yellow plastic container of motor oil.

Look. Look at this!

From their chairs in the shade, the first couple watched the second in stunned, speechless silence.

The woman on the towel looked up at the man with the yellow bottle and smiled. He held it upside down, and they watched the top, waiting for something to come out. In a few moments, a thin stream of black started running onto the sand. The man walked in a ring around their towels, making sure not to miss a spot, making sure that the ring surrounded them on the sand without a gap.

When he was thru pouring his black oil on the sand, when he was thru pouring it on the pink sand within a stone's throw of the waterfront, the man tossed the yellow container over his shoulder without looking and joined the woman inside the ring. She smiled again, and they kissed.

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Blackrock Park, Lake Buchanon, TX

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