Not As They Appear

Right off from the start, I knew that Rory and I would not be friends. If the bluff macho sort of way he related to everything was not enough, it was his referring to me as beanpole in a semi-sarcastic tone of voice. when I told him to stop calling me that, he just smiled and said, " sure…beanpole!"


There was a tiny islet that was my personal airy from which I could view the cove. When things were awful, I could row out and use it as a place to rant noisily. None other than the shorebirds heard me.


A sense of proportion is always helpful. I have been offshore in an aircraft carrier and a ketch. You are uncomfortable on the carrier in a big blow, while you could fear for your life in the ketch.


We are late in starting the Annual Festival of Wood. Here it is the first full day of Autumn, and all I've done is shift a fifth of a cord of ash closer to the side porch for easy access during winter storms.