So here is a perfect day: where the wild and the civilized intersect.
Since the beginning of time, there is the part of me that brings home the meat and throws it on the fire to nourish my family, my tribe.
Of course, things have changed since caves and mammoths. So now I like to demonstrate the latest and the greatest gadgetry to the awe and envy of peers and colleagues.
Bill says, “I smell the meat, but where’s the fire?” Smiling mysteriously, I point up—at the sun. Tom says, “No way!”
“Way,” I say—and direct their attention to my new SolSource grill: a 5-foot blossom condensing sunlight, a piece of art from a science fiction movie, the wavefront of tomorrow’s lifestyle. Upon which dinner sears.
“Watch this,” I say. I move the grill pan aside for my demonstration. I hold an obsolete piece of stovewood—no tongs needed!—into the solar focal point and it ignites to the amazement of my dinner guests. A chorus of Ahhhs. A scattering of Wows. Then dinner goes back onto its holder and immediately resumes its succulent sizzle, the grill pan branding the steak with its imprint, making me look exactly like a professional. Or a magician, who can bring the simplicity of indoor cooking into the back yard.
The kids squeal on the grass. The adults sip their adult beverages. Light sparkles through glass, and treeshade dapples the table. The tableside solar grill emits no clouds of smoke—only the tantalizing aromas of meat, maybe a rub, maybe a marinade. The beef comes from a grass-fed farm. The salad comes out of the garden, the corn on the cob fresh from a farmer’s stand this morning. The fire—that comes from the sun.
Earlier, I told Jenny, “You clean the pan, I’ll clean the grill.” She, trusting soul, agreed. I got the better end of that deal … a quick wipe with a damp cloth will take care of my part of the bargain.
And, the meal finished, the gathering subdued, we lounge back and admire the futuristic lines of green and gracious living.
A perfect day indeed.