Last weekend, we hosted our 5th annual Autumn Equinox party. You could call it our way of partying away the last of summer, and thumbing our noses at the fall season and all the chores it brings.
The weather was perfect and the guests all arrived pretty much at the same time. Food was out and gone almost before the burgers and dogs were ready to serve, but we didn’t disappoint master barbeque chef Peter. We ate like the true carnivores we are.
Once our bellies were full, we women started loud demands in the general direction of the hunky men standing over the cooling barbeque. The demands are simple. Light the bonfire!
After evil growls that once meat has been consumed, the fire will be lit, we women wait patiently, standing in the kitchen, lamenting the ways of men in general. We giggle a lot and toss air kisses in their direction, secretly hoping that the bonfire is going to burst into crackling warm flames so we can move the party outside (and appropriately flash our glowing bracelets at one another).
We happenin’ chicks danced far from the fire, under the moon (completely clothed, it’s not THAT kind of equinox party), to the thump-thump beat of our own deejay, my Caliber with the drop- down party speakers.
We all danced like nobody was watching. And in the dark, all we could really see were the phosphorescent, multi-coloured glows of our bracelets as we twirled and shook our booties under an oak tree in our backyard.
As our wanton dancing faded and we gravitated towards the fire, a new atmosphere began to emerge. The music was turned off, and we gathered near the fire. Quick laughter replaced dancing, quips of “Who’s in charge of the fire? More wood! More wood!” took over the party, and we all started to mellow out.
Whether too soon or just at the right time, our guests took their leave. The fire was still pretty bright, so Peter and I decided to stay outside and enjoy it for a while.
And as it goes for so many couples that are completely at ease with each other, Peter and I lapsed into a comfortable silence, mesmerized by the popping wood and flames before us.
As I leaned my head on his shoulder, a sound travelled to us from deep in the forest that is our backyard. Coyotes. Their yip-yip barking and high-pitched howls greeted us, sending shivers down my spine and smiles across both of our faces.
We didn’t say a word, just sat, staring at the flames and listening to the wilds in the bush. And somehow, it was the perfect final stamp on the night. As if, maybe, the coyotes were thanking us.
For what? For turning off that loud music, of course.
The symphony of the wolves and coyotes out here is much better than the stuff we usually listen to. We just have to be quiet long enough to hear it.
Peter and I sat and listened to the forest and to each other without saying a word. It was beautiful and romantic as we snuggled close and enjoyed the song of Lanark County.
Parties are great, but sometimes communing with each other and nature is better.
