"Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day. You shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense." Ralph Waldo Emerson
Shackle, Thimble, Line
These are the line lines that secure us in our berth. At low tide the lines appear out of the water, kelp and mussel shells dangling from their greenish strands. Some might find them unsightly, preferring that they stay under the surface at high tide. But I find them rather beautiful —their design, their simple strength and technology, their patterns as they cross one another, and their vital role in holding us fast to the pilings that mark our berth which we call home.
Loafing
"I’ve set aside time today,
same as every day,
for doing nothing at all."
- Raymond Carver, from 'Loafing'
Pierre likes Carver, too.
waking up
Sun on the roof deck
heart coffee & chocolate cake
the morning in its youth
poetry and cats
sunglasses and tai chi
the bay shimmering
light moving
on the side of a houseboat
these reflections with no
questions inquisitions or
cameras
just me in this moment
with the old cat
whose shadow silhouette
I see and would
photograph if my camera were
here so instead I simply
enjoy this mild state
of stunning astonishment
"The face of the water, in time, became a wonderful book - a book that was a dead language to the uneducated passenger, but which told its mind to me without reserve, delivering its most cherished secrets as dearly as if it uttered them with a voice. And it was not a book to be read once and thrown aside, for it had a new story to tell every day." Mark Twain, Life on The Mississippi
"Just A Minute"
I rose early, as I do, with special assistance from one of the cats. Apparently I didn't get the memo that breakfast had been moved up to 5 am. Well okay. After seeing to my duties I made the coffee, went up to the roof deck and inhaled sea air, beheld the sunrise, practiced tai chi. Phyllis was up when I returned. We sat in the living room drinking coffee together, settling into the morning. 'I like this 'she said, handing me a book of poetry, Mary Oliver's Why I Wake Early, opened to a poem, "Just a minute" said a voice . . . I loved the moment, the coffee, the poem, its last line: 'For the rest I would keep you wondering.'
Breakfast at Low Tide
photo by Dennis Bayer
Where Lost Keys Go
A neighbor has been away so I was watering and collecting mail for her. Then I misplaced the key to her mailbox. I looked and looked. Felt embarrassed, consulted a friend about cutting the lock and replacing it. I emailed her, she said she had a spare and would deal with it when she returned. Meanwhile, mail was piling up inside the mailbox, I could see. So yesterday I wrote a story, Where Lost Keys Go, had a little fun, but also struggled with it. Wasn’t happy with it. But I’d let the whole embarrassment-thing go and moved on, focusing on watering for her one last time before her Monday arrival. This morning I was practicing tai chi on our roof deck this morning, and in one of my moves my hand patted the buttoned pocket of a flannel shirt I hadn’t worn for a bit. Heard a subtle jingle, and well, found the key! Very happy about it. And happy that I now had an ending for my story, Where Lost Keys Go ~
Where The Action Is
There’s a little cafe where houseboat people go called the Bayside.
You always run into to someone you know and sometimes it feels
like you’re on a meal plan. We like to go for breakfast on Sunday.
Sometimes I’ll go for lunch by myself if the work’s gone well and
sit at the counter where the action is, reading Bukowski, with Egger
for backup, eating my burger with fries. Today along the way I bought
a painting for my brother-in-law, who celebrated his birthday at the VA,
from van Bo a local brother with paint smeared glasses who was selling
his art on the corner from the back of a borrowed truck before the sheriff
came and chased him away for no license, making us all a whole lot safer.
Me neighbor calls me, breathless . . .
“ There are two fat geese who have just landed on my float, exploring. Look out your window downstairs. Maybe you can take a picture!” I go downstairs where our windows are eye level with water. See the geese under the pier on our neighbor’s float, beautiful and magnificent exploring float island. Of course, geese wait for no one and as I reach for my camera one gently flaps into the water and floats on the shimmering green surface. I open the window, cup my hands and whistle, as I’ve done with seals and seagulls. The goose floats towards me. With no screen, I wonder, for half a second, if it will try to board us.
Once news of the magnificent visitors spread, naturally, everyone had to see . . .
One Day While Growing up
One day while growing up
I discovered that my son
had outgrown me. It seemed
only recently that I had carried
him on my shoulders, he in his
fireman’s hat, me & my brown
beard. But now he’s the one
with the brown beard
and yesterday he and his
girlfriend bought a couch
and loveseat for $75 for
their first apartment. And
I am left to wonder where the
time went and what happened
to my brown beard and who
placed this red hat
on my grey head . . .
Reflections Inside and Out
Last night after a small party on the dock, after some wine, an old neighbor who walks with a cane and lives alone on a very rickety houseboat with narrow precarious planks for a gangway, fell in the water trying to board his boat. Two passersby saw him and pulled him out. He was calmly sinking, more worried about his hat floating away than drowning. Earlier in the evening at the party, another neighbor was talking about a similar incident with a different, older neighbor last winter. She said if she hadn't looked over her left shoulder at just that moment he would have died probably of hypothermia. Only his fingers gripping the dock and the top of his head had been visible. She got him out, got him back to his boat, into dry clothes. We hear of older people falling and breaking hips. Here on the docks there are different consequences to consider. Thank goodness for neighbors and quick acting visitors who respond with kindness, resolve, and care.
