On the first full day of summer, Roderick, Laddie, Molly and Natasha went for a picnic on Wickle's Island. Wickle's Island is in the Mill Pond, near the south shore away from town; it's named after Mr. Wickle, although nobody knows who Mr. Wickle was, or why the Island is named after him. Early maps of the area predating Auguste Beaune's arrival show the "Isle of Wickle" as early as 1750; older maps show a Native American name, "Lenaquidgonnichuck", which translates roughly as "Unnamed Island Nobody Wants".
If you want to get to Wickle's Island, you have to paddle your canoe, as there are no bridges. You can swim, too, but the Mill Pond is quite large, and the water is cold all year 'round. So canoeing is the way to go, and Roderick has an inside track to canoeing on the Mill Pond because he has a summer job working for Mr. Armstrong, who runs the boathouse. It's a fine job for Roderick, because he likes to canoe and because he's friendly with youth and grown-ups alike. On a summer day in Beauneville, it sometimes seems as if the whole town is out on the lake, paddling and gliding, gliding and paddling.
The season doesn't open until later in the week, but Roderick has keys to the boathouse and permission to paddle whenever he likes; and so, Roderick, Natasha, Molly and Laddie clambered into the biggest wooden canoe in the boathouse and set out for Wickle's Island.
When they got to the island, Roderick set up his portable grill on a large rock by the water. (Roderick is surprisingly handy with the charcoal grill). It took about fifteen minutes to light the coals, but as soon as the grill was hot Roderick set about searing a few hot dogs, hamburgers and a vege-burger for Natasha (who generally avoids meat).
Even the most mundane food tastes better when cooked out of doors, or so they say. Today was no exception, and the picnic was delicious.
After lunch, Laddie splashed in the water.
Roderick stretched out on the rock near the now-extinguished grill and drank the landscape. Molly stretched out in the sun on a large rock that sloped down to the water across from Roderick, and about fifteen feet away; she threw her arm over her eyes for shade.
Natasha sat near Roderick, drew her sketchbook from her backpack and began to sketch the reclining Molly. She sketched the background quickly and started to sketch Molly's figure, then stopped, erased, sketched, erased, and hesitated.
"Um, Molly... do you mind...?
Molly lifted her head from under her arm. "Hmm? Oh, sure." And with two quick movements she was sans clothing. Roderick saw a shirt crumpled on the rock, and a pair of shorts, and nothing else. He thought to himself that Molly would not likely be successful in a game of strip poker; not that it mattered, of course, as it seemed most unlikely she would partake in that activity.
