top of the ladder
up the hatch this morning
broke out laughing
we’re in a bank of heavy fog
just like home
an hour later it’s lifting
and a decent breeze from NE kicks in
this cold fog
is a state of flight
Tag: Happy
When a vision takes shape
Our home renovation project work continues, but for long stretches it seems like nothing’s happening. Those unseen details are important, all the same.
And then, seemingly in a flash, developments become obvious.
The latest example is on the front upstairs, now that the roof is raised, the top’s covered in standing-seam metal roofing, and the windows are finally obvious.
I must admit being a little nervous about the planning, inside and out, but now that they’re in place, I’m feeling excited and even confirmed. Whew!
Now, for some cedar-shake siding!
Righthand or lefthand rope
Or line, as they insist
right-handed cord
coil it clockwise?
left-handed, counter?
Right laid
a Z twist
versus an S twist
in the cable
coiled wrong, it will kink
potentially dangerous
where will I apply such arcane detail?
How do they come up with so much to talk about?
Not just when they call each other first thing in the morning for a half-hour chat, but also when they get together face-to-face just hours later.
We guys just don’t understand, as far as I can tell.
Dale’s heavenly nap
As he had told me:
urchins once filled all the shoreline rocks
till the Japanese market opened up
flights from Bangor
fishery now tightly licensed
hoping for recovery
An old-fashioned farm windmill was doing whatever on one island we passed.
On Eggemoggin Reach
just passed an old sardine carrier
turned private yacht
Local traffic
sardines as a reminder of where I’ve settled
when the Louis R. French was based out of Lubec
and owned by American Can in Eastport
she had an engine and no masts
faring something like this
In more than one swirl
I’m turned about so much
we don’t connect to the guidebook
in my hand
across from Brooklin
on Blue Hill peninsula
wooden boat school renown
and the magazine
I’m so turned around
the overnight air was humid
we thought the early morning sun
was the moon
we could look at straight
like the nearly full moon
As long as we were on uninhabited Babson Island
Maine Coastal Heritage Trust
It’s an all-you-can-eat lobster bake, that is, boil
It’s what many people expect when they come to Maine, but rarely like this.
the lobster feast, of course
I had two and a hot dog
and a watermelon slice
skipped the kabobs and corn-on-cob
the cream-colored tamale
quite tasty, delightful
the obscene excess of two lobsters
without formalities
just rip and crack
imbibe
memories of Chaz telling of arranging such feasts
who as a biker in Maine
ripped the tails off
and tossed the rest
my, how I still miss him
Going ashore once again
Using what I had previously thought of as life boats was a common practice during the cruise.
Babson Island a wet landing
wearing Converse high tops sans socks
a mistake
lucky I don’t have blisters
a fine-shell beach
unlike any we have to the east
I know of
so here we are going ashore again
this time for lobster
Babson Island, Maine Coastal Heritage Trust
Jnana's Red Barn 