Day # 234: A quiet day on the Cape

#234

that is the soft green my mother wanted me to paint my bedroom.  It is the green of late August sea grass. It is the green of the side of  the dune  nearest the bay.  Even the rain is gentle tonight.  The sound of a clam shell tapping on wind chimes and the drops touching the leaves, together they sing a lullaby and I am drifting off to sleep. 

I wish to swim in the soft water of the kettle pond tomorrow.  Be held, caressed, stroked softly by water that is purifying.  I wish to look out over the blue ocean tomorrow and watch the birds play, but tonight I will sneak off to lie in a bed and listen to the sounds of evening rain in August when summer is beginning to die with a final shot of heat, when summer begins to express itself with tropical storm tails.

 We wouldn't let her name her, but she did thank her for our supper.  David and Emma went out and foraged most of our dinner, lobster was the second course.  We had oysters, muscles, mushrooms, turkey sausage.... they didn't catch the turkey.