I love the way that kites cut through the air, nothing but nylon and string, they dance from treetop to treetop, and flirt with the clouds.
The wind fills the cells with air, creating a wing that creates lift, so you can actually fly away with the kite. We usually kite in North Boulder park. It is nice and wide open, lots of kiters, and it is right next to Boulder Hospital in case we eat it after a 20' high jump.
I love watching the kites fly back and forth through the sky. In a state of hypnosis and awe I guide the kite in dives, slices, loop d' loops, and lazy 8's. The fabric ripples as is silently soars in an 85 foot hemispherical enclosure. I slide around and let the kite take me wherever it wants to go. The five square meters of caged happiness dances around the sky, flocking with birds, and waving to airplanes higher up in the atmosphere.
But the caged kite is not happy. It wants to be let free. It tugs and pulls with all its might to be released from its dyneema fetters. Being attached to a human is its curse, and its blessing. For my kite would not fly without the chains that hold it back. The tension from the lines keeps the kite rigid, allowing it to create lift and waltz from south to north and back again. Without it, the kite would be lost, fluttering fabric spinning around like a white plastic bag caught in the smallest of tornadoes. So I let my kite out as often as I can, letting it taste the flight that it desires, though it never gets to experience the real thing.
One day I will set my kite free.