Do broken down houses make your heart ache?

In his book “Care of the Soul”, Thomas Moore says they do. And ever since I read that, I wonder.  In fact, I DO sort of cringe when I see these homes, broken down, falling more each day.  Delmarva has quite a few of them.  And the social worker in me wonders about the last people who moved out – what was going on, how it all ended.

Of course, the pragmatist in me says, “Yeah, well, if you’ve got a structure and you tear it down if it’s in the critical area (within 1000 feet of tidal waters on the Bay), you can’t re-build. As long as you have a foundation, you MAY be able to re-build on that footprint. So practically, if you have a falling-down house, for god’s sake – keep it right there until you’re ready to build – plans approved, dollars in the bank, contractors signed on, permits in hand.”

I can’t find the quote itself, which I thought was so poignant. I did find this one, which I think describes why Cynthia referred to her visit here as an “unreal world” on facebook. I think it describes how this slow life on these rural lands does nurture our soul, and maybe why it feels “unreal”:

“It’s important to be heroic, ambitious, productive, efficient, creative, and progressive, but these qualities don’t necessarily nurture soul. The soul has different concerns, of equal value: downtime for reflection, conversation, and reverie; beauty that is captivating and pleasuring; relatedness to the environs and to people; and any animal’s rhythm of rest and activity.”
— Thomas Moore

The Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum has an incredible exhibit right now called “A Rising Tide”, with photographs and stories of lower  Dorchester County, where the Chesapeake Bay is rising and taking over human lands – Hooper’s Island, Holland Island, etc. The stunning photography is burned into my mind. There is one photograph that took my breath away – an older house literally surrounded by water overtaking it, with some dozen vultures on the roof. My knees weakened and tears rose. Yet the end of the exhibit, (thank you CBMM) offers a different perspective – don’t remember whose, but it was all about the fact that – in the big picture, things roll back to nature, who reclaims everything. At the end of the day, the Bay comes in, the birds and fish and aquatic life take over, and our human time here is erased. No big deal, it’s just the way it is. And somehow, I walk out of that exhibit comforted by those thoughts. Go see the exhibit at the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum – photography by David Harp, written by Tom Horton. You’ll never forget it.

Hammock napping

So I was browsing a Martha Stewart magazine (oh, c’mon, who doesn’t like to flip through once in a while?) a couple weeks ago and it said – “it’s not too late for one last barbecue……” and I thought – WHAT? It was still August at the time, for God’s sake. Which brings me to hammocks and napping, below:

Now, a nap in any hammock anywhere is an excellent use of time, no matter what. I spent many perfect hours sleeping in hammocks at Slippin’ Falls in Missouri. But hammock napping on the Chesapeake Bay – ahhhhh! Especially with a breeze, salty, wet air and swirling menhaden all around ……..about as good as it gets.

Go back in YOUR mind’s eye to the last good hammock nap/reading/daydreaming/lollygagging time that YOU had. Re-live it. And remember – it’s not too late to have LOTS of good hammock naps yet this year. If you haven’t had one, seek one out.

And I intend to take my own advice, and get at least one good hammock nap before Friday.

Early morning sounds in Mayberry, on a Tuesday in September

The ever-present crickets chirp, and some owls hoot back and forth. Locusts buzz.

Around 5 am, I hear a motorbike churn quietly into town, and a little later, someone leaves in a car.

Squirrels wake and are active, I hear their jumps into swaying tree limbs and little squirts.

Robin, cardinal, mockingbird’s repertoire.

A loud truck with a trailer barrels into town, presumably a fisherman, ready for work.

The oyster light appears, and the church steeple is visible through the window blinds, and the white of the trim paint glows.

Crows go “uh uh”, and songbirds whistle.  A dove coos.

Zip jumps on my bed and snarls “let me out”.

I get up.

Luna

So, my friend Amy was going home to Michigan for the weekend and I said, sure! Bring (your beagle) Luna here for the weekend, Cynthia and I and the dogs will be here. NO BIG DEAL.

Ahem…… I shoulda known Friday evening when she was so eager about the window, what she was thinking.

It was lovely, for the first two days – Luna was GREAT! Easy, loveable, slept with me twice and napped with me for two hours today, with her chin on my leg. Sweet!

……is what I thought until Luna turned into a completely different dog and went flying out the front door running like a banshee just before noon today. Screaming like a fire engine, shaZAM! She was OUTTA THERE! Holy crap! Cynthia and I ran out of the front door after her and funny, we both dropped our handbags and cameras on the front lawn and ran flying after her. Gone! Dag nabit!

Cynthia ran through Dan Higgin’s yard and I did too, but went back for a leash – darnit! She was GONE! AARGH! Here goes our day! No fun travels for us, we’re going to chase this damn beagle across tarnation and never find her till the end of the day when we find her pancaked on the ground on Mayberry Road. Great. YOU tell Amy that you killed her dog. AARRGH! And the worst part is we were heading out to lunch, and were hungry! Gaaaa!

Run, run, I ran and yelled. Actually, I was running through my neighbor’s backyards screaming “shit! Dammit! LUNA!!!!!! F$%#!” I ran through Mayberry’s main street with the leash, stopping cars and telling them to slow down and generally, freaking out. AARGH! What kind of an awful dog sitter am I? What if it was MY dogs? How could I ever forgive? My neighbors were kind and helpful. Mary Gregorio went looking all around……..

Then, out of nowhere, Luna came screaming at me – PLOWED into me and laid down, panting like a dog who just hijacked out of jail. I tried to hook her up but my hands were trembling and when I tried to pick her up (and she hates that),

and so she split AGAIN! Aaaaaaa! Run, run, run.

She stopped at my yard and laid down and I hooked her up and she’s trapped and in prison once again. Which – is good? I dunno…….

Luna, Luna, Luna. Good/bad dog. I think she knew we were heading out and wants love and people and attention, what’s so wrong about that?? Well, Cynthia reminds me that I might want to add that she figured out how to get out of the gate in the kitchen twice, teaching my dogs the same trick……..

The Wedge in Easton

…is one of my favorite places. We went to First Friday for a little bit, and had a cheeseboard and some wine. Delicious, civilized eating. I watched, amazed, as my pal Cynthia was able to talk on the phone and text someone else at the same time! PLUS wink at me while she’s doing it, and drink wine. Talk about multi-tasking.

There was street music:

and the most ridiculous sign I ever saw in my life. Of COURSE I parked there.

a 28 foot sailboat for a hundred bucks?

Get OUTTA here.

Yesterday was the boat auction at the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum – one of the best events of the year (do NOT take a number, KB!) Luckily, I made it through the event without buying a boat (whew!) But, BOY! Were there some good deals there!

The most fun was seeing who won an auction. They were so obvious, what with that half crazed smile, walking around in a bit of a daze. Lots of happy people. Such an important fundraiser for this wonderful institution, so glad the hurricane stayed offshore and didn’t ruin this day for the museum!

Turkeys?

On the white board at the farm, is this, with a question mark: “Turkeys?”

And here are the questions associated with that question mark:

- Why do we have them? Whose turkeys are they? What on earth are we going to do with them? Do they stay in that little shed? Where should they live? Are we going to eat them? Sell them? Name them? We know where they came from, but….now what?

Reasonable questions, all of them.

Another super fun day at the farm, with my friend Cynthia, visiting from St. Louis. We ate freshly caught rockfish and bluefish with pea shoots (thanks, Mark!), saw some tiny turtles and made pesto. Great day.

And here is my favorite hen, who comes into the barn at exactly eleven o’clock to sit up on this ledge and lay her egg. She insists upon it, this is the only place that will do. Lots of squawking and then……… silence.

Today’s National Geographic Picture of the Day!

makes my heart sing:

I know it’s not about the Chesapeake, but darn it, I love it and it’s about me. The best part of the Arch is exactly this – standing around outside, underneath it. I have spent so many fine hours of my life under this Arch, with friends and family, watching the best fireworks, eating picnic lunches, selling eclipse glasses, you name it. The other best part of the Arch is underneath, in the museum of westward expansion. They have a map of this country, with the eastern half all filled in, and from the Mississippi River west, nothing. A camp in Oregon is on that map, and really, nothing else. They didn’t know! And it just wasn’t that long ago, that this map was THE map of the US. Hard to imagine. The other thing that’s hard to imagine is that St. Louis, back in 1963, had the foresight and the willingness to spend all that money to build a public sculpture. Wow is right.

An Annapolis institution

…..Chick and Ruth’s Delly. Been around forever, right on the tourist street smack in the middle of everything. All the sandwiches are named for politicians, Annapolis being the state capitol and all. Too bad the “Barbara Mikulski” is some tuna thing, I woulda definitely got it since I love her. Crabcake was ok, being there = awesome fun.

5 steps to a perfect creek bath

(this one’s for you, Lindsey)

1. Disrobe. Keep your creek shoes on.

2. Walk down to the top rock.

3. Dip in and lather up with Dr. Bronner’s Extra Hemp and Lavender Soap.

4. Dive in.

5. Swim a little. Get out, yer cleen as a whistle.

We spent 3 days at the cabin, and went from slow, to slower, to slowest. Medicine for the soul. A couple of images from the visit: Kevin – thank you for the breakfasts!

…and this morning, I was reading at the table on the porch, and heard a PLOP! A loud one! And looked up and straight into the eyes of a bald eagle who was turning toward me – maybe 50 feet away – we made eye contact – whoa, betty – can you imagine? She had just dropped her trout (plop) into the water, and she made some tight circles over the creek and was off. Kevin walked down and found the trout that she dropped. It had some holes in it, was dead. He left it on a rockpile for her. Maybe she’ll come back and get it. Wow.