Kite

I mentioned in a previous blog that as a child I had a ton of freedom to play and explore my neighborhood. This is not something very prevalent today for kids. Here is a story of one such memory I have.

As a photographer I am drawn to clouds. The larger and more ominous they are, the more I love them. The reason I am drawn to them is that of my childhood.

One early spring day, my buddy Jack and I headed out to a field next to my house to fly our kites. I had an extremely large roll of twine and my black bat kite. The kite was in the shape of a triangle, colored black, and had two enormous eyes underneath. These eyes looked at you as the kite flew above.

Jack and I walked about ¼ mile from my house on a windy March day. Emerging from its winter nap, the grass had just began growing, so it was very low and was more brown than green. We found our perspective spots, tied the strings on our kites and let the wind do its thing. Within seconds the kite was at 10 feet, then 20 feet, then 100 feet above me. I let a bit more line out and then staked the roll into the dirt and laid down on the ground.

As I watched my kite (and Jack’s) drift slowly from left to right, dancing on the wind. I drifted off myself. My attention floated past my kite and into the cloud above it. There were large cumulus clouds dotting the sky and then a process (I found out later) happened. Blue field entoptic phenomenon happened. If you ever starred into a blue sky, you know what this is.

The dancing dots above me left their squiggly trails behind them. I was hypnotized by their movements. The cool breeze and warm sun helped take me deeper into a light coma.

Suddenly I was shaken from my trance by Jack. The stick I had jabbed into the ground that had a line connected 150+ feet up to my kite had come loose. The stick was now hopping down the field toward a major highway. I sprung up and gave chase. I ran as fast as I could, but each hop of the stick was at least 30 feet and my young legs had no change to catch it. I ran anyway.

The field was rectangular, and I’d say covered at least 10 acres. It was bordered on one side by a crop field (behind me), to the right was dense woods, to the left a few houses and in front of me was Dixie Highway.

I ran with all my might. Jack did too. My kite was flying higher when the wind (for a moment) stopped blowing. The stick hit the ground, and I felt a sense of relief. I was closing in on it.

I grabbed the stick, and then another horror was before me. The kite now was diving for the ground and its landing point was on or over Dixie Highway. Out of breath, I had only one choice. Run back the way I came. I hoped to get enough momentum so that the kite would catch air and return to sky and not crash down on a busy highway.

I ran as fast as I could and felt the string tighten behind me. I kept running for about 20 feet, then stopped to look. The slack in my kite string was now tight. The wind again was blowing. My kite, however, was rapidly descending toward the highway. I panicked.

I yanked at the string and the nose of the kite turned horizontal with the highway, then began heading upward. Relief. Quickly the kite turned right and began violently going into figure “8” motions in the sky. The force pulled me off balance, and I fell to the ground.

With a death grip, I held the stick as my arm and shoulder were being jerked by the force of the wind. The stick cracked under the pressure. I grabbed the rope, which unraveled from the stick. The rope slid through my hands and the burning/stinging pain made me wince in pain.

For a few minutes, I struggled to secure the rope with my hands. They were raw, and I was in a lot of pain. Every time I felt I had to control, the wind would pull the kite harder and I would lose some slack on the rope. This time the 5 foot wide kite appeared as a small dot in the sky and I guess it was 400+ feet above me or more.

The battle resumed as I tried to control my kite. Then suddenly it happened.

Until next time,

Tim