Wednesday, September 16, 2009
A day like any other, early to rise, a fresh brewed, rich, dark cup of coffee; then, to the field to move irrigation lines. Back to the house, another cup of coffee before going back to the fields; but, a question awaits, "Can we spend the day at the beach?" Changing plans, deferred work plans.
Grabbing essentials (and not so essentials) we all pile in to head West. The Corridor is shady, cool, and full of life. Stop in at Mo's for chowder - then on to the Aquarium. Small ones enthralled with aquatic life, sea mammals, and the adventure. Older ones pleased with the smiling faces and excitement of the experience, new and one of discovery of the young.
Now the sand, the wind, the salt air. As the beach expands before us, look up. A Bald Eagle, wings spread, floating motionless on the current, backed by a translucent moon in the blue mid-day sky. Sand pipers dive into the stream catching tiny fish to take back to the fledglings in the nest. Down the beach, the decomposing carcass of a sea lion. Driftwood lies everywhere. The mini-gas grill cooking cabobs, a small wood fire for smoors, and the glorious richness of the setting sun. A trek across the foot bridge reveals a beaver in the pool created in the stream, munching leasurely, pausing to look up, then back to munching, unthreatened. As the fire fades, time has passed. It is time to load-up and return home.
The darkened hi-way, deep richness of the Corridor without light, and the slumbering, wiped out kids, dreaming of their day. Parents nodding off, remembering the day's events. Pulling up to the house, Home - respite, time to crawl into bed and reflect. For one there is the task of unpacking, cleaning up, and pausing with the visual images of this day.
It is a day that will last. It is a day that will be different for each one who experienced it. For me, it is a fantastic day.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Sunday, August 2, 2009
While traveling through Western Europe with my daughter and my wife just under five years ago, we bought a few McMuffins from McDonalds. There were two: one chocolate and one blueberry. My wife and daughter got bored as we waited about an hour for our train. When I went to find the bathroom a few minutes before the train was to arrive, my daughter convinced my wife to let her eat part of the muffins.
A few hours later, as we sat on the train with our stomachs grumbling, I grabbed for the sack of muffins. It was then that I discovered that the muffins were topless. She had eaten at least HALF of each muffin top. I was appalled. Instead of lashing out as I have been known to do, I grabbed my journal. In it I wrote: "One chocolate muffin. One blueberry muffin. SNITCHED!"