Scupltural
Elie Wiesel said writing is more like sculpture than painting — you take away, you don't add. Living on houseboats is the same. You take away what you don't need, leaving space for beauty, wonder, and light to flow in, linger, and recede.
Floating Sister City, Victoria
photo by Jim Woesnner
A Thousand Wind Chimes
A brisk breeze blew as I sipped coffee on the roof deck and did tai chi. Flags waved and riggings rang against the sailboat masts like a thousand wind chimes in the morning.
Any Minute Now
“What you do with yourself, just the little things you do yourself, these are the things that count.” Buckminster Fuller
Neil says the heron’s cry may be the sound of the dinosaur. Early this morning the orange tabby and I watch the heron fish at low tide. Tabby watches intently, ears erect. The heron cries - a sound that splits the morning and maybe time. I sip coffee. The cat crouches in fear perhaps, faint recollection, echo of memory, the pterodactyl and tiger, & neanderthal with coffee.
Sunglasses
I have a hard time passing up the free pile at the end of our dock without at least taking a look. My daughter teases me about all the sunglasses I have. But every pair has been found. Sometimes in the free pile. Sometimes in a shopping cart, sometimes in the trash. That's pretty much my standard for acquiring sunglasses- not how they look on me, or if they are men's or women's, but whether or not they are free. And it's a good thing, too. Apparently, I'm hard on shades. I break them. I've even been known to lose them. At least I think I've lost them . . . hmmm, has someone been thinning the herd?
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 your old nonsense." Ralph Waldo Emerson
