Way back in December, when we went to view The Ugly Chicken that very first time, Emma and I stood shivering on the veranda, trying to picture the view lush and green, and conjuring this fantasy of having her birthday party there on the island. A whole weekend long celebration with fishing, swimming, grilling, and hair-braiding. (Because, for some reason, that's what 12 year old girls do when they gather in groups of four or more. It's what my friends and I did when we were 12, and it's still what my daughter and her friends do. Braid hair. All weekend long).
And behold! It came to pass.
|Dinner Friday night.|
. Only two of the girls' hair is yet braided.
. If dinner had been but an hour later, the rest would have been similarly coiffed.
Alas, it came to pass that a cold north wind fell from the arctic in the days leading up to Em's birthday, thus polluting the gentle summer idyll of our celebration. I feared the swimming might have to be called off.
But no. These are, after all, fully pubescent Viking women we're talking about here. At least a few of these hearty souls would not be daunted by cold waters and even colder air.
The sea must needs be swam!
We're going to stand around and look at it for a gooood long time before we do that.
I wished I had had a hat.
More than once I thought, "Christ, their mother's would flog me if they knew I had let their babies go swimming in this weather!"
More than once I thought, "Meh, my baby does it all the time, and look how awesome she is!"