This kite has been with us over ten years, and Sunday was it’s second ever outing. I know. But, adding it to our alphabet year way back in January finally gave us the nudge to pull it out of the loft, and I’m so glad we did.
Flying a kite is pure, simple joy: feel the wind catch the fabric and pull at the lines, while you stare up in to the blue and watch it go. In goofy abandonment, I did a lot of leaping, shrieking and yelping. I didn’t know my face could pull so many weird faces until I saw the photos.
This is a job for two. You need a launcher, who can double up as a spectator to admire your seriously cool ever-so-slight loop. And then they can do the necessary repairs after you crash to the ground. Either way, it always feels good to run around in the high grass and chase the wind.
I remember being so fristrated by kite flying when I was a kid. I could never get mine off the ground! I think I lacked the necessary skills (and patience!). Should I give it another go?