Wednesday, August 20, 2014

Millers Cove











Sunday evening, in complete denial that this is the last week before my son departs for college, I went for a kayak ride in our cove to soothe my soul and quiet my mind.










This particular arm (is it called an arm?  regardless, that's what I'm calling it) of the cove is right near Clifton, which has a very rich history that includes shipbuilding, a women's finishing school and all sorts of possibilities for movie plots. The property on which my parents and I now live was once part of Clifton.










Although I was searching for herons or other creatures along the shoreline, I happened upon a piece of wood.











This piece of wood, part of a fallen tree, looked like a cross between 










a dinosaur
an alligator 









and a heron.








A heron gazing skyward, kicking one stump of an abbreviated leg upwards in some sort of high five to the heavens.

If I've not mentioned it lately, I'm very easily amused.  This is how I spent my entire life childhood.  Gazing at nature and making up stories, no matter how irrational.

Thank you for tolerating indulging my imagination.



Signed,

In Complete Denial That My Son Is Leaving Home















Monday, August 18, 2014

The Tree




Once upon a time, a daughter tried to pretend it was an ordinary Saturday.  Instead, after jogging six miles in the Beaverlett area of Mathews, she pulled into her drive to see some major goings-on at her parents' house next door.








A dead tree that for many years towered over her parents' house now looked like an oversized fish skeleton, depending on the angle. (Look at the one below. Fish skeleton, I tell you.)









The Lady of the House was thrilled to see the tree go down.  






































It took a village to get this tree down.  



CB Father, B, W, and Mother, debriefing after the tree was safely down.





























Because nobody likes to be named around here, we'll just say thank you to B, Jr., and W. for their assistance in getting a huge, completely dead tree down from my parents' front yard.

Safely.

Now if my 70-something father can cut the monstrosity safely into usable pieces, all will be good.