I’m just in from my day on the river. I drove across the city to the delta and, my oh my, the air was warm and still and the sun was shining down on the happy people out on the river walk, warming every slippery, silver heart.
The fishing boats on the wharf sprouted outcroppings of colourful tarps and it was impossible to see the goings from the boardwalk.
And I always have to see what’s going on!
And I’d most certainly dress my anchor with rubber gloves.
I wonder if you fold up the tarp after you wash the boat deck so it dries in the sun. I wonder if fishermen think in terms of dry/wet or if there’s some secret language, a series of words, wetness words like Eskimo have for snow, that only fishermen know and use, and they would laugh if they knew this question.
The world doesn’t seem so big.