gratitude!

I took this in the early morning at the Northwest Maritime Center.

For the Daily Prompt: gratitude.

I am full of gratitude this morning, for friends, for love, for living near the water and the boats. My daughter was home for college this summer teaching sailing at the NW Maritime Center to children who were here visiting and to children who live here. She says that some of them had hardly been in a boat before. If one child got scared in the pair out in sailboats, they might get others scared and crying. Still, she felt that they had enough staff and good training and were very safety conscious in this cold water.

One week half the kids said that their favorite thing the whole week was when one of the instructors went overboard. Honestly, he was pretty cold after that but learned to bring extra clothing.

My daughter took the Level One Sailing Instructor Course in Seattle before she started teaching. The instructors here at the Maritime Center got to know each other and work as a team.

The small land pirate ship is on the water side of the Northwest Maritime Center and is popular all summer, during the Wooden Boat Festival and for the younger Messing Around in Boats program in the summer. Small pirates ho! Gratitude for imagination and cameras and play and the sunrise and sunset.

 

He Who We Are Tired Of

I propose a quiet week.

I propose a week off.

No twitter.
No video.
No tapes.
No attention: that is, a week where we do not mention He Who We Are Tired Of.

We don’t read the twitter
the tweets
the discord
the insults
the stunts
the anger.

We interview the laundry worker at the White House.

“How are things?”

“Quiet. Today we are bleaching.”

“Wow, those sheets are really white.”

“Yes. They are.”

We interview a gardener at the White House.

“How are things?”

“Quiet.”

“Any problems?”

“There is a mole in the South Lawn.”

“Wow. Is that a problem?”

“Not really. Someone could step in a hole and hurt an ankle.”

“Are you using poison?”

“Oh, no, that wouldn’t be nice. We’ve done research and a live capture will move her to a really beautiful meadow in Alexandria. The owner likes moles. We send some South Lawn dirt along to keep her from being upset. We’re been very successful with this program, no complaints.”

“None have come back?”

“The bridges are a bit much for moles. They haven’t tried though, they usually find Alexandria quieter. The Easter Egg hunt is a bit stressful for moles, all those crowds.”

“That’s great! How wonderful.”

“Yes, all quiet here. I love my job.”

“Well, that’s the White House and Washington, DC update for today. Tomorrow we talk to a congressional window washer. They have an amazing view!”

 

For the Daily Prompt: trademark.

 

 

big crane

Our boatyard has two cranes, a big one and a little one. They can lift enormous boats out of the water. The bottom is washed and the water is filtered and then the boats are set down to be worked on, all over the boatyard.

When my kids were little they had field trips from the school to the boatyard. My daughter’s class had a trip to see the crane because one of the parents works as a crane operator. All the second graders learning about the boatyard: fabulous.

The introverted thinker breaks the rules

My earliest memory is taste and proprioception.

I am outside in the yard. I am under three, because it is when we still lived in Knoxville, Tennessee. I am standing. I am not terribly steady and I am holding on to the pipe. I remember how the pipe feels, metal and a bit rusty and rough. The day is hot, but the metal is cool on my hands. I am drinking the water out of the top of a pipe that sticks up from the ground. Water pools in the top and I like it. It tastes of iron. I am not supposed to drink that water.

I lose my balance a little and bump hard against the pipe. My tooth breaks. Now my mouth tastes of blood and iron.

I don’t remember it hurting much and I am not scared. I am mostly annoyed and resigned. I think, I am going to get caught now, I can’t hide this.

This is me in the canoe and my parents, in the early 1960s. I don’t know who took the photograph.