Tonight the sky is green. It’s not quite dark. There is rumbling in the air.

And with absolutely no transition, a story of Sunday.

A picnic, at Minnehaha Falls. Random park visitors were drinking, quite openly even, out of glass wine glasses filled from, yes, a real bottle of wine. This is funny to me only because of a little run-in a few of us had at Hidden Beach last weekend involving the cops, a mere six bottles of Premium, and a late night swim. In the oft-told story, we were “almost arrested” (but given three tickets each instead) and lined up in a row on the beach in our swimsuits. The swimming, however, was wonderful.

I love picnics. I love people joining together to share random gifts of sustenance in the grass. I love how grocery store visits in groups take forever, are hilarious with mass indecisiveness, and involve aimless wanderings and discussions about apple varieties.

Eventually we loaded seven people and a picnic into J.B.’s 1960-something Electra and headed for the park. We played some Frisbee (well, we played 500 with a Frisbee and I kind of just got scared of all us running in the same direction so I just sort of played 500), we waded in the creek, and we laughed at a lot of bestiality (it was really hot outside that day) jokes.

On the return trip, J.B. had to stop to put air in his tires. We piled out as he did so. Did you know that you actually have to take off pieces of a 1960-something Electra in order to fill the tires? We piled back in and watched while, first, a barefoot man and then immediately following him, a shirtless man, walked into the S.A. Like a cartoon it was, except the punchline never happened.

My right leg fell asleep during both the to and fro trips (it was cozy, so I guess that happens). It went through all the phases of dormancy and reached the tingly stage just as I needed to walk.

Summer with lovely people makes it all seem okay.