Midnight Moonlit Meandering

Last night there were five of us..dressed in jeans and sneakers...on our bikes...on a typical full moon ghost hunt. It was midight. I felt a little bit like a teen agers on a snipe hunt. Of cours, we knew we wouldn't see the headless pirate Blackbeard walking on Springer's Point...but just in case, Philip carried a stick. He said it was to brush away the cobwebs on the pathway, but you can't fool me.

The moon had not quite risen as we stowed our bikes by the fence and followed the narrow pathway into the woods down to the water. It was a fairly long hike (well, at midnight, hikes seem longer)..passing the grave of Sam Jones and his horse..they say there are other graves there, but they are unmarked..victims of shipwrecks. Occasionally my foot would catch on a root or a limb would brush across my face. Single file we walked. The view was breathtaking as we reached the sound side of the island...the lighthouse in the distance, the moon hovering over the woods, we huddled together..sharing stories, filling our souls up with the beauty of the night..expecting a fleet of pirate ships to round the corner, come to shore, roll out the kegs of rum, and celebrate the full moon with us.

We walked back with moonlight on the pathway. We never did see any ghosts...but did they see us?

A Bouquet of Larkspur

Deciding we needed a lovely bouquet of flowers this morning (we have company coming!) I got on my bike and rode into the village to the florist shop. It is tucked in behind the community store, the fudge shop, and right on the harbor. It used to be the grocery store, then a bait and tackle shop, now the florist/Victorian antique shop.

The door was open letting in the mornng breezes from the sound. Chester is the owner of the shop. He was born on the island and also works as the local funeral director. His shop is small with two coolers filed with larkspur and delphiniums and sunflowers. I chose my flowers carefully...colors of pink and blue and purple. He carefully wrapped them in tissue paper tied with a yellow bow. I was cautious as I eased into friendly conversation. It didn't take too much as Chester was in the mood to talk and tell stories. He was born and raised on the island..his shop, Annabelle's, is named after his lovely Victorian grandmama. He shared stories of the mailboat from years ago and he told me he is impressed by Philip's dedication to stories, the real stories. As I left, Chester was stil sitting in the overstuffed chair, covered wtih a worn blanket, behind his small desk..I wound my way down the dock through the sea gulls with my lovely bouquet..a new Thursday tradition has begun.

Just sittin' on the pizer..

There are lots of names for the fronts and backs of houses..porches, stoops, sunroom, deck. Each one conjures up images for me. I remember by Grandma's porch with the swing...stoops were for playing jacks on summer days..sunrooms..enclosed porches for reading and having dinner...decks...suburban bar-be-que. I had never used the word pizer unti this summer..now it seems to be an every day word for me. We invite folks over to sit on the pizer for gin and tonic...we sit on the pizer to watch storms or unsets..and big dogs sleep under pizers.

Yesterday we spent part of the afternoon on the pizer of the community store. It is a large wooden structure in town...not quite your super Wal-Mart. They carry most necessities that you would need. If you forgot your money, it doesn't matter, they have a large file on the counter with everyone's name on it and you just charge it. On the porch, there are benches to just sit and visit with other folks who shop of just ride bikes over to chat and tell stories. The bulletin board on the porch gives the local news..hospital reports, sign up sheet for the fourth of July parade, wedding invitations. It does give new meaning to the phrase, come sit a spell and spin a story or two.

Shoes...Optional

I have a pair of red flip flops...well, OK, actually I have two pair of flip flops. One pair I bought with my son in Santa Barbara...he said I just had to have them..stylin', you know. They cost me fifty dollars...fifty dollars for a pair of flip flops. I got blisters and stuffed the stylin' pair into the back of the closet. A few weeks later the Marathon station was advertising free flip flops with a fill up. Two years later I am still wearing them, blister free. They are a little worn, chunks of cheap rubber have dissolved or broken off and when I raise my foot, you can read MARATHON, but I love them.

Here they are my only shoes, and they are optional. The other night we were invited to dinner. It was great, I love wearing dresses..ironed and pressed..ah yes, shoes, optional, so I went barefoot. We followed up the dinner with storytelling at the local Deep Water Theatre, again shoes optional, just be careful not to cut your foot on randomly tossed clam shells on the narrow paths and roadways. By the way, watches and clocks are also....optional.