Last Post

Last Beach Blanket Bananagram

Last Walk

Last Fire

Last Swim

Sky Over The Pool

Found Portrait

Bench Held Together With Wire

Pool Chairs

Mysterious Shapes

The End-y End

Landscape Painting

Salt Maker's Return

Once Upon A Time

Strange Rock And Surfer's Wagon

Egg Casing and Crab Shell

Another Sunset

The Water Treatment

Pool Toys

A Long Cedar Way

A Bear Goes Over The Mountain

Two Heads

Pelican Feather

Front Yard

Bent Tree After Town Hall Meeting

Assorted Lighthouses

Rocks and Spiral

Candy, Roses, Shells, Black-Eyed Susans

The Stand

Pails and Maps

Just Beauty Alone

Low tide and clouds this morning.

Spirit of Absence

Toying with the idea of this place no longer being here. Is it too hard? Is it inevitable? Missing it already.

Mysterioso

A hard day, a beautiful day. Star showers tonight, again.

Illumination

Hope some comes our way.

Confusion

How will we proceed?

"You Can Never Have Too Many Lighthouses"

Not to mention, charts.

A Good Day To Be Outside

Kinda beautiful.

A Good Day To Be Inside

Kinda rainy.

Grit Your Teeth!

Going to be strong tomorrow. Plenty of sharks outside.

Swimmin' in the Big Ocean

Went swimmin' to check out the Persieds. Floated. Wondered. Mazed. 62 a minute.

Get Lost, Tourista!

Raining all day. Went to Cannon Beach, nearly got into head-on collision, multiple near misses, poked in eye with umbrella, someone threw my field tomatoes on the ground. Cannon Beach! When I asked the free range egg man for a half dozen eggs and he blurted out, "NO!" and then realized . . . it was me in my "lady" coat, not in my usual sooty and ragged yellow rain cheater. He laughed, and said, "of course, for a GOOD customer," and handed over six blue, pink, green and brown eggs of various imaginative (for a chicken's butt) shapes, now all nicely boiled and peeled. People are tired of the tourists. I went up to the Library, and then to The Stand and wolfed down a recession taco ($1.75). Parked in front the funeral parlor and thought for a while, then went and witnessed terrific breakers coming into The Cove. Old surfers in lawn chairs sitting out in the rain, watching and waiting. One guy was out, getting pounded. It is raining like crazy, and I am thinking it's time for a swim, so long as I don't get wet.

Forester, Forster . . .

Different takes, same oceans. The Librarian takes a little pink post-it note and writes "girl with the dragon tattoo" on it, and places it on my Donna Leon mystery books. "People who like Donna Leon generally like Stieg Larsson," he says.
The other librarian, whose bilingual edition of The Complete Works of Francois Villon I have borrowed, laughs. We exchange glances. "People who like Forester," I replied, tapping my short stack of Foresters (Ship of the Line, Beat to Quarters and Flying Colors), "generally like Patrick O'Brien." I also like Forster. People who like Forster, also like Maugham? And so it goes.

Today's Mission

Was to keep off my feet.