Going . . . going . . .

Posted on November 2, 2010

14


What am I bid for another fine autumn day?  Just one more day . . .

The orchards are still bright. They’re always the last to fade.

Up at Bay View Farm ebony Malika has joined the other rescue horses.

The sunflowers at King’s have been plundered by the birds.

The Bay is low, as it always is this time of year. A month ago we could either climb over that “erosion control” wall or wade in waves up to our knees. Today I walked around it on dry beach. The windstorm scoured away a good deal of sand, too. Large swathes of shoreline are cobblestone now. But the sand will blow in again. The lake will rise. All in its own good time.

Crawfish claws and carapaces litter the beach. I do not know whether the crawfish are molting or the gulls are feasting. I do not know whether these are the Invasive Rusty Crayfish or a native species. I am pretty sure that right at the moment I do not care.  Autumn is fading and I am walking along the beach with a warm, warm sun on my back.  The Cowboy is wading.  Miss Sadie is digging.  It’s all very restful.

Then this afternoon I stopped at the Eastport Market and saw this . . . this . . . affront.  NOOOOOOOHHH!!  Russ, preparedness is all very well, but for heaven’s sake, do not rush the season!

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