Recently a friend from St. John sent me a happy surprise package filled with all things Anne Bonny (and Mary Read too, just for good measure). If you don't know who they are and like things piratical and playing way outside of the lines, click on the link and check out Anne and Mary. While slaying for treasure isn't my style, I lean toward the rebellious spirit that drove them.
|Not being much (at all) of a beer drinker, I'm really happy this fits my glass perfectly!|
Going about my day here on the hill, with the whole front of the house given to windows on every level, it only takes a glance seaward to find something going on. Boats, birds, more boats, more birds, all the same and all different. The color of the water reflecting the sky off a bottom covered with sand or turtle grass (sorry, you who would like to collect the different colors of water, that is NOT how it works - but really, I am sorry, that would be tres cool).
Whether riding the waters with feet firmly planted on a board, or with them planted on a deck, I love that the honda is almost always a busy place, that a lot of people really use their boats. I love to watch fishermen heading out early, hoping to come back with lower gunnels.
A mind can spin a lot of stories as sailboats pass through the buoys; where are they going? Where have they been? When decks are loaded with the accouterments of need for long travels, charts unroll in my brain, marked with memories and check points of places not yet traveled. Lots of both. Lots of good.
Of course, with birds, it often seems my camera is three levels down or three levels up and by the time I grab it, they have swooped and glided and flapped away. I'm learning, if I can't grab a photo, to stop and just enjoy them. I think that's a good lesson.
Have a windswept Wednesday. Do something wayfaring.