Twilight transitioned to a cool, starlit night as a group of microbrew-lubricated men gathered around a ten foot high pile of miscellaneous wood like a group of soccer moms waiting to run through the doors of a Saks semi-annual sale. Adhering to an unspoken rule, they waited, smoking cigarettes and taking swigs from solo cups, until the architect of the soon to be engulfed tepee slowly and deliberately made his way towards the pile. Clutching a solo cup and lighter in one hand and an old New York Times in the the other, he marched over to the pile with a grin known to many trick-or-treaters.
Thirty foot flames quickly illuminated the apple orchard and thirty or so people headed towards its heat like like Midwest bugs towards a light. Laughing and chatting, small groups of friends subconsciously experimented with their appetite for heat, eventually creating a twenty foot radius around the fire.
Intrigued by the promise of friends, Weber Grills, kegs of local beers and the beauty of the Maine countryside, people from around the Northeast descended on a small orchard in Limerick, Maine to celebrate a friend's 40th birthday, or as the title of the invite called it, turning 14 for the 27th time. Bringing camping gear and their meat of choice, the partakers eagerly set up shop in the rows of trees early in the afternoon and embraced the late April day with the same gusto as rednecks at a NASCAR race.
Red toes and leather sandals.
The sun lingered in the sky overlooking the farm like a parent picking their kids up from a party, nursing the proposed five minutes into an actual fifteen just to see the laughs and smiles.
The orchard and barn serves a sculpture workspace for
Sandy Macleod during the day.
Comforted by the sun and the smell of budding fruit trees, people hooted and explored the rows of apple trees, marked by the occasional kinetic sculpture. Cheeks and noses turned pink as the season's first sun caught overzealous minglers off guard.
The kabob assembly line, accelerated by beverages and a sinking sun.
The last glimmers of sunlight.
A well loved apple grinder.
A one log fireplace in a bedroom above Sandy's studio.
Joe the birthday boy and Sandy, the host of the party.
I love the color red.
As the fire's heat subsided and the solo cups emptied, people meandered back towards the house and the comfort of leftover potato salad, more beer and cold shrimp kabobs. I yawned and stretched, shivering in my shorts and LL Bean mocs. It felt like summer.
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