"it's just human nature amidst nature's nature." - Julie

It started with a catalyzing suggestion: “It’s nice out. Let’s go to the Nature Park.”

It continued with unanimous agreement. So the four of us – Adam, Alex, Julie and I – loaded into the car and headed out. We didn’t know how long we’d be gone, but we didn’t bring anything with us, except a 12 pack of beer, and three packs of cigarettes.

We hiked the park – passing respectable joggers and dog walkers – each of us with a bottle of Keith’s in our hand, sandals on our feet, and no sign that suggested there was any premeditation to or preparation for our arrival in the middle of the woods.

Adam and Alex were drunk and ready to explore. Julie and I were sober and concerned about the number of times the boys almost stumbled over the side of a cliff.

Then came another suggestion: “Let’s climb down this cliff to the beach.”

The agreement wasn’t unanimous this time around. Alex looked over the steep and muddy hill with an expression that suggested he was not as prepared to intentionally scale the rocks as he was prepared to unintentionally do so a few moments before. He parked himself on a tree trunk, and said he’d wait there for our return and we could take as long as we wanted, but he was keeping the case of beer.

It didn’t take long to convince him to follow us down once Julie pulled a bottle of wine from her purse. So, with the two feet and one hand we each had free, we used a half-hardened mudslide to climb down to the beach.

Adam was overly cautious with me, not wanting his little sister to die at his suggestion. Alex was overly cautious with the case of beer, though showed nary a care for his own well-being, jumping, rolling and running down the side of the hill, most of the time completely out of control of his own person and refusing to be cautious. It’s like his approach to everything – he won’t take his time because he doesn’t have enough.

After the beach, and the subsequent climb back up the cliff (this time Alex tumbled hard enough to actually hurt himself. He’d also, by that point, accidentally broken all of the beer bottles… not at once, but individually over the course of a half-hour.) Still, we all made it back to the car – most dirty, some bloody and one wet (Adam had gone wave crashing at one point).

Another suggestion: “Take us on a musical tour of the world and keep going forever.”

In layman’s terms, that meant to play good music and drive somewhere we’ve never been before. The forever part was just wishful thinking.

We drove until we spotted a ferry that just happened to pull into the ferry terminal as we passed it. We felt the opportunity was too perfect, so we took it, despite not knowing where the ferry would end up (we only hoped it was not the Digby Ferry, though I was fairly certain that the Digby Ferry’s starting point would not be in the Kennebecasis River).

We ended up on the Kingston Peninsula, which worked out, since we’d never been there before, and there was good music playing. Mission accomplished.

We drove and drove and I marveled at how far we could drive, and wondered why I had underestimated what this peninsula had to offer for so long.

The sun was setting over the hills on the other side of the river. The sky was so pink that it was red and the trees on the hills were nothing but silhouettes. Everything we saw was mirrored and distorted in the water. The best part was looking at the scene without anything man-made obstructing, or even included in, the view.

We pulled over by a field full of dandelions and daisies and got out of the car. Tiny Dancer was blaring from the car speakers and the four of us sat in the field and watched the sun go down behind the hills. The sun was gone by the time the song had ended.
We all got up, brushed the grass stains off our jeans and made the long journey home, all knowing that the moment we’d just experienced was the perfect culmination of all the suggestions of the day.

Because of that one catalyzing suggestion, we ended up taking a five-hour journey down mountains, over beaches, across rivers, through valleys and back again, all the while laughing, listening to philosophers and poets the likes of Cohen, Dylan, Harper and Mitchell and philosophizing in our own right.

Because of that one catalyzing suggestion, I can now say that my summer has begun.