Hidden Sickle

Hidden Sickle by Ford

Ford, when finally finished with his painting yesterday afternoon, stood back and looked at it. I stood beside him. I remarked on the different greens, how each had a different color mixed within it. I asked him about the painting, about what he was thinking about as he painted. He told me that there were images hidden inside. Could I, for example, find the hidden sickle? “You know, like Cronus’ sickle. Can you find it?”
It made me feel victorious, that he’d actually absorbed some of the stories I’ve been reading lately. And lately, we’ve been reading about the birth of the Titans, and how Zeus and his children came to be. I had gotten fed up with Pokemon and decided to take Ford’s zeal for characters and funnel that passion into mythology; this time, Greek mythology. Last year, we lurked for a while in Norse myths, but the Greek myths are hidden everywhere, like little green sickles, in the best (and in Pokemon’s case, the worst) of children’s literature and comics. They’re all a bunch of trading card characters. Like, the free kind.

When the Fireworks Began

Ford watching the first of the fireworks from inside the diner.

We were sitting in the Santa Cruz Diner. The neighborhood began to pop fireworks and fizzers into the purple dusk. We were about to pay the bill and drive through boardwalk traffic to a fireworks show that didn’t really exist. We discovered that the best seats in Santa Cruz might have been on the beach, choking on camp smoke and trying to keep Chas out of the fire. Therefore the car, as it turned out, was the best seat. It was simply one of those fourths that we decided not to plan. In other words, it was a time for us to be lame.
The day itself was much more gratifying: an afternoon spent on a warm secluded beach about a half hour north of Santa Cruz.

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Chas and Ford, arranging feathers in the sand