Turn Point

7 July 09
I struggled with getting out of bed this morning. I was so comfortable and I wanted to return to dreamland. The clouds cleared a little last night for the sunset and there was enough light for me to work on my carving for an hour before slipping between the sheets.
It has been raining most of the day today. Nothing that really soaks the clothes, just enough to keep the ground wet. I am a little surprised that I do have quite a few visitors, no the usual numbers, but enough to talk to in the middle of the day. Almost all of them missed it when the whales went by. They were a ways off, just barely visible enough that one didn’t need binoculars, but better visible if one did have them.
I’ve started writing more dispatches to my friends some of which will be placed in a box until the addressee is ready to receive them. In one of my dispatches I talked of my powerful need to travel and how in explaining it I end up falling short. I say something like ‘I just love meeting new people and seeing new places’. This statement seems so cosmopolitan to me, better suited coming from the lips of a debutante. I really don’t know how to describe it accurately. I think that I have only met one other person with such a kindred soul, and I hope one day he will forgive me enough to be a part of my life again.
It’s a quiet evening, the rain has taken a break for awhile, and the swallows are diligently feeding their four growing babies. I watch the parents twist and turn over the field before swooping down the deck to the nest high on the electrical box. This day has gone by fast and I feel as if I have done little, but stab myself. After closing the museum I went to make supper and worked awhile on my carving. In the process the gouge I was using slipped and went deep into my thumb. The blood poured so freely it wasn’t till my third paper towel with my hand over my head that it finally stopped. A bit of duct-tape to hold it secure and I started again. They say master carvers never cut themselves. Boy do I have a long way to go.
All of the things I am already missing this summer here at Turn Point. I do miss eating my dinner at the table by the window. It was always nice to look out on a million dollar view while eating. I still will sit on the porch for sunsets, but it is almost as if it has lost some of its feel. Little things, like I can’t feel the floorboards vibrate in my bedroom every time a deep sea tanker goes by, or eating my breakfast sitting on the door stoop while readying my paperwork. I really don’t mind being in the trailer, I am just reminiscing.