"It was imprudent of us, in the first place, to become authors. We could have ecome something regular, but we managed not to.
We were lucky, but we were also determined." Roy Blount Jr
"I don’t change the facts to enhance the drama. I think of it the other way round, the drama has got to fit the facts,
and it’s your job as a writer to find the shape in real life." Hilary Mantel
Sunday, July 24, 2005
Bright and Breezy
In the morning I was puttering around, taking in quantities of caffeine, when I heard the unmistakable sound of the big boat going by. So naturally, I grabbed the camera.
I must have dozens--hundreds?--of identical photos. The thrill of seeing the huge white vessel passing our dock never fades. It chugs down the bay to its southernmost port of call, then about 30 minutes later chugs back up the bay, as illustrated by the photo. Sometimes the captain blasts the horn.
It was one of those days--sunny, crystal blue sky, cooling breeze--that you want to share with somebody. And I did. My husband came up for the afternoon, bringing along the Sunday paper and news of our dogs and our nesting phoebes (there's a nest at this house, too, on the side of the screen porch.)
We went swimming.
The water was still 78 degrees. Trust me. In this (deceiving) view of the thermometer it looks like mid-70's, but that's because I had to lay it on the dock. The lake felt so nice that we stayed in till we had prune fingers.
We had something to celebrate--well, mostly I did--so we'd made a reservation at a fave restaurant 15 minutes up the road. It's only open in summer, so dining there at least once during the season is an annual ritual. Sometimes we manage two visits, if we take some friends or family along. The specialty is Asian cuisine, all varieties: Philipine, Korean, Indonesian, Indian, Japanese. Exquisitely cooked and beautifully presented. There's no liquor licence, so the diners bring their own wine--we carried along a nice bottle somebody had given us. Because it was my party, I picked up the tab.
Late into the evening, I sat on the porch, in the dark, listening to some cd's I hadn't spent time with in years. R.E.M. rarities and B-sides. Elton John. Joe Jackson. It was utterly silent--out on the lake, I mean. In between discs, I listened to the water lapping against the shore for long periods of time. All the weekenders had left, and hardly any boats went by, and those that did were running quietly.
A really lovely day and a wonderful night, exactly the right amount of companionship and solitude.
Posted by Margaret Evans Porter