Five Photos, Five Stories Challenge - Day Five...

Parked

Scrolling through the images on my new camera, I thank Virgil for the delightful gift. He grins and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.

“I’m enjoying it, too. This is so much better than when we had to wait days to see how the photos turned out.”

“And I can snap away without the dread of wasted film,” I add.

He points to the image of a resting dragonfly. “Did you just take that?”

“Yes. A field beyond the campground is teaming with insects.”

“What are we waiting for, then?” he asks, folding his newspaper. “I’ve been sitting on my behind entirely too much this trip.”

I haven’t complained because seeing him relax so completely has been wonderful. But if I were to be completely honest with him or myself, this sedentary side of him got a bit dull this third day of camping. I’m ready for a little adventure.

“I have a better idea. Why don’t we go into town and rent some bikes?”

Usually I’m the one happiest setting a sedate pace on foot. My suggestion clearly delights my guy. I just hope [i]my[/i] behind doesn’t regret this departure from the norm.

An hour later, I think I’m doing pretty well. We’ve ridden past some really neat historical buildings. Even better, Virgil points to an ice cream stand.

“What do you say, Gladys? Ready for a break? I’ll buy you whatever you want.”

I’m almost off the bike before it coasts to a stop beside the shop’s cluster of picnic tables. Virgil laughs. I tell him to purchase another of whatever he decides to get just as long as he makes mine smaller. It’s not often that our tastes are not in accord.

And this is not one of those times. A scoop of pistachio ice cream on a waffle cone tastes great, a cooling treat after our exertion. Virgil groans when it’s time to pedal on our way.

“Want to head back to the rental shop? You look ready for a nap.”

“I should work off some of those calories,” he says, “but yeah. Let’s go.”

“Just one second.”

A teenager walking by is kind enough to take our picture as we pose before the bicycles. Then I'm ready to park myself by our tent until time to light a fire and start dinner.

***

Five Photos, Five Stories Challenge - Day Four...

Trailed

“This is nice,” I say, patting Virgil’s knee.

He grunts in a way that tells me my intrepid man is dissatisfied just sitting around the campsite. I take a deep breath. Dare I ask what he’d rather be doing? Dare I not?

I don’t want the dear man bored. Life is too short. And I’d much rather get off my backside than have him insist on going back to work. His father worked until the day he died and I want more for us. Besides, Virgil’s mother made me promise to someday make my husband retire and do the things of which she’d always dreamed.

Like camping for days at a time.

“You want to go for a walk?” I ask. “Or maybe take a drive?”

His face lights up, visibly erasing a decade off his age. I can’t help chuckling. The years have flown by, with plenty of amusing adventures sprinkled in despite his busy career.

“What?”

“I’m just remembering the time we got lost in that reserve.”

“Geez, how long ago was that?”

Standing, he stretches his arms toward the sky. I can hear those shoulders pop from here.

“Ten years. Can you believe it?”

His gaping expression is comical. I don’t laugh. The man’s eyebrows have grown into a thicket while the hair on his head recedes further every year, yet I still see the features of the teenager who stole my heart. I used to go blocks out of my way to intercept his walk home from school when the year between our ages saw him still in junior high when I started high school.

“Well, time moves on,” he opines. “And on that note, we have plenty of daylight left for a hike if we get going.”

I try not to groan, gathering myself from the comfortable seat. The exercise will be good for me. It only takes me a few minutes to gather some things.

“We’re going for a stroll, not an overnight excursion,” he teases.

It probably is overkill to take the first aid kit, but my mother’s voice always tells me a person can’t be too careful. Unfortunately, I’m so busy stocking my little backpack for unforeseen calamities that I forget my cellular phone. And Virgil didn’t even remember to bring his along on this camping trip.

We have a repeat of the decade before, getting lost for hours longer than we planned to be gone. But we do find our way to the road before dark. And I thought to take trail mix, so we didn’t even go hungry.

As I lay in my sleeping bag later that night, I imagine us laughing about this in another ten years.

***

Five Photos, Five Stories Challenge - Day Three...

"Beached"

I walked the shoreline while the sun rose, enjoying the quiet. It’s nice to just stand here now with the surf washing around my ankles. Virgil will be joining me soon, I hope.

Always considering him a morning person, I find it surprising that he seems to need more time to get motivated when we come here. Perhaps he just gets into a slower vacation groove. That’s fine by me. As long as we’re both relaxed and having fun, it’s all good.

“Gladys,” he calls, and I turn with a wave and a smile.

The corners of my lips fall slightly when I realize he’s carrying a surfboard across the sand. What in the dickens? He’s too old for that kind of nonsense. And I don’t feel like spending holiday time at the local hospital.

His eyes track over my expression. Instead of looking chagrined, he beams at me, his grin widening.

“Just kidding,” he says upon reaching me. “There are predators in these waters! But you’ll never guess who the board belongs to.”

I don’t get the chance to try. As if Virgil’s renewed laughter is a cue, the young couple we met back home a few weeks ago crests the stairs over the dune. Rick matches Virgil’s amusement. His young bride, Susan, rolls her eyes in sympathy toward me. We’ve both married a couple of jokers. She gestures for me to come closer.

“I’ve got coffee and muffins up here,” Susan calls. “Why don’t you join me?”

That’s all the invitation I need. My husband takes my hand and we start up the steps. He politely declines Susan’s offer, though, saying he wants to stay at the top of the stairs to watch Rick surf. I have a sneaking suspicion he’s planning to stay on a lookout for sharks.

My husband’s thoughtfulness warms my heart, though I soon become engrossed in conversation with the younger woman. She tells me that they delayed their honeymoon because of Rick’s job.

“But now I don’t mind so much. How neat to have found you here!”

I agree with her. We make plans to go souvenir shopping later in the day. For some reason, I find myself telling her about Virgil’s surprisingly languorous morning routine. Of course it beats talking about the shark attacks the area has been recently seeing.

“The only days he gets moving early are when we’ve made specific plans. It’s odd.”

“No, it’s not. We found Virgil up here by the pool and Rick asked why he wasn’t with you.”

“Oh?”

“He said he enjoys watching you, Gladys. Just don’t tell him I tattled.”

I won't. Thanking her for breakfast, I ask to borrow some of her sunscreen. Virgil's bald patch could use some protection.

***

Five Photos, Five Stories Challenge - Day Two...

Title: Treed

“You’re not serious,” I say to my husband, pointing upward. “We’re in no shape to climb that.”

“Sure we are,” he offers. “That couple just did it.”

He nods toward a pair barely out of their teens. They smile at his wayward enthusiasm. The gal looks at me and offers a thumbs up sign. I’m not sure if she is being sarcastic or just hiding pity. I feel a tug on my arm.

“Come on, honey.”

The young man holds up his camera. “If you make it to the top, I’ll take a picture of the two of you as proof.”

“You’re not going to want to stand around that long,” I reply, “though maybe you could wait here long enough to call an ambulance.”

Everyone laughs but me. Now my husband scoops my hand in his calloused palm. It’s my signal to stop arguing. Taking a deep breath, I turn toward his goal.

Looking up again I must admit that the very structure of this so-called tree tower is striking. Cedar shingles appear red-gold in the sunlight. But I would much rather admire it from here. Nonetheless, I take my first upward step.

We reach the first landing without too much gasping and moaning. Soon, though, my knees start to twinge. My man turns to look when I pull my hand free, his pace being just a little too fast for me. I lean against the rail and try to not to wheeze.

“Do you need to stop?”

“Just let me rest a moment.”

It really does rejuvenate me, though my joints soon begin popping upon each stair. Halfway up, he calls a halt. My dear hubby wipes sweat from his forehead and the motion causes his brows to spike in beetled disarray. I’d poke fun if I could catch my breath.

“You were right, Gladys.” He waves to the couple, telling them not to bother waiting. “We’re coming down, anyway.”

“Pose for me there,” the young fellow urges. “I can Photoshop you at the top from my computer.”

To my surprise, we end up exchanging email addresses. The picture turns out fine, if falsified. Our new friends made out better when we buy a state-of-the-art blender for their wedding three weeks later.

***

Five Photos, Five Stories Challenge - Accepted! Day One...

Thank you for the nomination to the Five Photos, Five Stores Challenge, Joan! I look forward to playing along. Your Joan Somers Design blog is a delight, by the way. So here is my first ficlet.

Title: Beached

“Where are you going? We shouldn’t leave the path,” I warn to my husband’s back. “You’ll fall in the river.”

Looking over his shoulder, he says, “No I won’t. Come see.”

My stubborn man, continuing to pick his way through the undergrowth, almost immediately disappears from view. After a pause at least no splash sounds, so I glance both directions for right of way before following him off the bike trail. I dressed for a paved stroll, not a wooded hike, and am cautious not to let my bare calves brush against the taller weeds.

I can’t help but roll my eyes. The last thing either of us needs is a tick infestation.

The incline turns out to be more gradual than I expected. Several paces bring me easily to his side. Instead of looking at the nearby rushing river, he points down.

Very clear in the mud I see raccoon tracks. I stoop to get a closer look at the fainter marks shaped almost like arrows with truncated shafts.

“See those claw tips? Those signs are from the cranes,” he explains, the birds being this area’s namesake.

I stand, smiling. “This is neat.”

“And it’s perfectly safe just like I said. In fact, we’re clearly still on the beaten path.”

I swat his shoulder. He gives me a comical flinch. Then bushy eyebrows bounce nearly into his receding hairline.

“How about we go skinny dipping?”

“How about we get on with our walk,” I retort, turning to grab a branch for support on my return.

“Spoil sport,” he mutters, following close behind.

***

Now, here are the rules:
1) Post a photo each day for five consecutive days.
2) Attach a story to the photo. It can be fiction, non-fiction, poetry, or a short paragraph. It’s entirely up to the individual.
3) Nominate another blogger to carry on the challenge. Your nominee is free to accept or decline the invitation.

And here are my two nominees:

Keith, the wonderful flash fiction writer of the Keith's Ramblings blog.

Drusilla Barron, who inspires me mightily with her Loved As If blog.

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