Throwing the Proper Picnic

One of the joys of this summer has been that William is old enough to appreciate things that he didn't appreciate before. He notices wildflowers, fields with rolls of hay, and he is fascinated with ants. I have also introduced him to the joy of eating and lolling about outside. Some cheese sticks, Capri Suns, crackers, coloring book and crayons, magazine for mama, and of course a largish blanket and we are golden. I have learned in my time on this internet, however, that I am going about this whole picnic thing all wrong. Observe.

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A suitably idyllic spot is necessary. Our view of the pool probably doesn't qualify.

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One must overload a car, preferably vintage and of European descent, with much more than one could possibly need so to induce spasms of uncontrollable luxury in all participants.

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A gramophone seems to be a requirement, and when bringing one, one must ignore the European car rule and somehow bring everything on a bicycle. To show dogged determination.

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Why use a quilt when you could use the estate's priceless wool rugs? Don't forget the Wedgewood china.

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I'm betting no goldfish crackers were served at this lunch.

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We do have the art of lying back and staring at the clouds down. The practice of laziness is easy to learn.

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Oh, and this is just too cool. Please, I want a quilt tepee.

I hope you've enjoyed your lesson in the proper way to picnic. Be sure to invite me to your next impossibly beautiful, flower laden spread, as there will be a test.