Kite festival

Al and I managed to get leave from the kids to ride our bikes together the hour or so to Hobart over the mountain. Sure was beautiful, and the temperature change was awesome. It seemed to go from 40 degrees up the hill to minus 20 degrees as we dropped down the other side, in about 2.5 seconds. Riding down the mountain, the city was spread out below us, flowing off the mountain before stopping, teetering on the edge of the bay. We met family, friends and our kids at the kite festival, which perched on a grassy hill overlooking the water. I imagined the kite runners in Kabul, and wondered if they are still making their kites fly and dance while cutting each others strings. The Hobart version was a bit tamer, but so beautiful. Kites filled the sky and everyone permanently ducked and weaved to miss or untangle themselves from the kids strings. Family, friends, good times in an easy life. Sailing ships of the air mingled with japanese fish and elaborate eagles, while the kids $3 kites danced in an uneasy truce below them. Life is good.