I'm still stuck on Saturday, when I took a bike ride around Jamestown, where I ended up climbing that windmill, which wasn't turning, which in turn made me wonder when it turned last. But before I could wonder too hard (let alone seek an answer), a cheerful volunteer asked, "Wanna go up??"
Of course I did, though it turned out to be somewhat creepy. The stairs were narrow, the planks were rickety (with wide gaps), and there were some alarming-looking ropes and trap doors and assorted other contraptions at the top level. But the view was lovely, even or especially because I was looking from shadow into light ...
Then on toward town, where I bought a cookie and a banana for sustenance (as if that matters) and continued southward. I parked myself and my bike just long enough on the sand at Mackerel Cove to eat said cookie and banana and to watch a very cheerful black lab roll in the seaweed, not once not twice but three times, much to the chagrin of his/her master, who kept leading the dog into the water in order to rinse off, just in time for the dog to emerge and do it again. It reminded me of so many trips to the beach with our sweet (late) happy dog, P, who never rolled in seaweed. P never rolled in anything — he never rolled over at all — and he was terrified of the water, as were Darling Daughter and Super Son before each managed to get over the fear and ended up loving it. They both spent HUGE amounts of time in/on/around the water from that point on. Just sitting and watching (while trying not to stare) at the beach reminded me of all that ...
And then it was over — the weekend, that is. It didn't happen quite that quickly, but I know you know what I mean: time flew. I did take time to visit Columbus, before his day was through, at the corner of Bellevue and Memorial, where he stands in the shadows across from Pasta Beach. Can you imagine his journey (and that of everyone else sailing the ocean blue in 1492)?? The waves, the sea, the seasickness, the fear??
Then there are all those Peter Pan-ish notions of planks and hooks and that funny bonnet-wearing dog Nana ...
