Summer of Love

by Jane Risdon

 

Summer of love

They swayed barefoot in time to the hypnotic music of Jefferson Airplane, multi-coloured kaftans flapping in the breeze, their hands high above their heads, eyes closed; the air thick with the sweet fragrance of weed. All around couples lay on the grass embracing, smoking or just chilling in the hot summer sunshine. Babies slept and small children ran about, giggling, naked, just as drunk as everyone else on the joy of love and life.

The Love-In had been almost spontaneous, a version of Haight Ashbury under the huge shadows of Stonehenge, they’d come from everywhere; by transit vans covered in psychedelic art, by converted Bedford coaches, by motor-bikes with sidecars and on foot. Somehow the word had spread and hundreds of Flower People were now mingling with bewildered Druids all waiting for that moment tomorrow morning; the Summer Solstice.

Smiling girls, the waft of musk heavy upon them, moved amongst them handing out flowers and beads, eyes glassy, skin tanned and glowing with youth. Bare-chested, long-haired, bronzed and beautiful twenty-something Greek Gods moved in and out of the gathering, girls watching their every move hungrily, hoping to catch their attention and perhaps share some ‘Free Love,’ later. The air was thick with expectation, excitement and love.

Several groups had arrived earlier, setting up their gear near the silent stones under the keen gaze of near-naked young girls, their interest having little to do with music they would hear later. The same girls had been busy writing their lip-stick messages over the group vans, invitations and declarations of undying love. The hopefuls were eyed with disinterest by the musicians, splifs hanging from their lips as they went about their tasks. All were ripe for the picking, it didn’t matter which they ended up with; there were plenty to go round.

Scott McKenzie told them ‘to be sure to wear flowers in their hair,’ his vocals floating across the almost silent masses. Someone had managed to set up a PA earlier and a Phillips Record Player strained against the drone of a passing aeroplane, high above in the clear blue sky, sunshine bouncing off its wings. San Francisco was in their thoughts, their hearts, and the words of the John Phillips’ song was their anthem, soon voices lifted and joined in with the chorus. Couples embraced, their bodies moulding into one as they swayed gently.

Later, when the groups had finished playing night came, camp fires were lighted and a hush blanketed the faithful and the Hippies, anticipation filled the chilled air. Some slept but most sat chatting quietly, waiting. Soon it would be time.

They rose as one, Druids and Hippies as the sun came up and consumed the spaces with its light. Druids performed their rituals, watched in respectful silence until it was over. A huge roar rose. Dancing, singing, laughter was everywhere. The ‘Summer of Love,’ began again, music filled the fragrant air once more; all was peace and love.

Feeling Groovy

(c) Jane Risdon 2013

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9 thoughts on “Summer of Love

  1. Reblogged this on Jane Risdon and commented:
    Some fun for the coming summer – a piece of Flash Fiction I wrote a while ago is included in Magic of Stories today. Feeling groovy? Pop over and chill with The Summer of Love. Wave when you get there. Peace and love everyone xxx

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  2. Great being here and sharing magic moments from The Summer of Love with you all. Feeling groovy? I hope this takes you back to those magical days. Thanks for having me here, really fab. xxxx

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  3. Though I was ever at Stonehenge and I wan’t lucky enough to be a twenty something Greek God (knowing my luck it would have been Somnos) There is much about that magical time I remember, not least the Hope that we were going to see an end to war, and if it had to be by making love then we all must make sacrifices.
    xxx Massive Hugs xxx

    Liked by 1 person

  4. the Hubby and I were reminiscing the other day and wishing that it had all worked out the way it was supposed to. But, it didn’t – it couldn’t – even John Lennon couldn’t make it all work. Sigh. Lovely to remember though even though it was all smoke, mirrors and wishing. Peace and Love everyone

    Liked by 1 person

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