(NOTE : I am posting random entries and tidbits from my journal trying to catch up to present day)
One week left here this summer. One week till I can put one more notch in my belt of a summer at the lighthouse. Sad to say, I feel so blasse about the thought of my remaining time. As if I have written all of this before. True, these are the same feelings I always have around this time, and in that sense they are familiar and confronting. But, well.... I don't know what to say.
Trinket, the resident baby seal, begins mewling and the noise redirects my thoughts. Four people show up just before 11, rain soaked and loud. The usual conversation of sailing here and there, of a 12 pound ham they have been using for a week and the need to pump their tanks. I wish I could avoid listening to such a banal conversation. They are so loud and occupy a major portion of the porch. Silence might only be found in the woods. I am elated when one of the women says she is cold and should get moving. I am happy they are retreating to their boats and Costco salmon burgers. The rain starts falling harder, Rose curls deeper into herself.
A slow day, a good day, a day that I read a whole novel from start to finish without much interruption. Robert Louis Stevenson "The Dynamiter". An appropriately sized green book with the visage of a young man embossed on the cover. The typeset almost a 3/4 of an inch from the edge of the page. A somewhat absurd margin that made the book thicker then what it should be.
From out on the water comes elevated voices, a father and a teenage son aboard a sailboat ironically named Nirvana. They are yelling at one another. In transiting past the point, they cut it to close and fouled their prop in kelp fronds. The father jumped into the dinghy while the son fiddled with the boat hook. The offending kelp finally freed, the boat turned towards Bedwell Harbor and disappeared into the fog.
No comments:
Post a Comment