Dock Alert

Dock Alert on Issaquah is code for party, a tradition started by my friend Jim. A dock alert might begin as an email or a note on the bulletin board. Or just a couple of chairs, some beer, wine and chips. Next thing you know, others stop by and stay. Sometimes a guitar appears. Or an iPod with speakers.  Someone orders pizza. The dock alert may stay small, may grow large; it  may last a short while, it may go into the night. It's a dock thing. A casual community happening. A love of life. A spirit on the waterfront that, with little or no planning, but with smiles and goodwill and shared refreshments becomes an organic festive party; reminding us all that we came to the docks for beauty, but we stay for community.

"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 …

"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

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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 tid…

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.

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 

"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, beh…

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.'

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 ~