Here are some shots of a baby boat following its mother
into and out of the harbor at St. Michaels.
Of course, very few people
except me call them
or mother boats for that matter.
But the one thing about not writing for anyone other than yourself
is the creative license to call things whatever you feel like calling them.
Today, I see a baby boat.
with any sense call them dinghies.
I've said it before, and I'll say it again.
That's one funny word, you have to admit.
Baby boat sounds cute and slightly more dignified, in my opinion.
(Dignified may be a stretch.)
When I first loaded these pictures and slapped on a title (which I often do before I have any idea what I'm going to write-- if you care to call this writing, and I don't because it's just meandering thoughts), I was thinking about how I sat and watched this particular boating family come in and out of the harbor and how here lately it feels as if all I've done all summer is come and go, between commuting to work and all the various trips and activities.
If these are my biggest problems, life is good.
But I sure am looking forward to a few consecutive days where the car never leaves the yard.
Also, I need
a new car new tires.
Have a dinghy of a day!