I kick off my boot. It goes a foot and a half further than I expect because it's heavy. It tips over and discharges a quart of black water, spruce needles and leaf mold. Being barefoot is more comfortable as I pull the slime covered spruce limbs out of the water and toss them over the row of holly bushes. I'm barefoot on the quartz outcrop. I'm soaked with mud from the waste down. It's suffocatingly hot, but nothing like what they're coping with on the mainland. It seemed like the right day to wade into the pond, cut up the tree that fell in there last winter, then haul it off. I'd stay cooler with the soaked clothes and mud pack. Still seems hot, just soaking as well. And filthy. I'm back. I have mojo that's been elsewhere among all the worries.
I'd had a perfectly delightful accidental vacation except for feeling the dangle of waiting to hear for how much and when I'd have my trusty minivan back after its unexpected sabbatical. My 30th class reunion convened on Saturday after a trip up to Hallowell to see friends. The band and I enjoyed our outdoor show on a perfect July Sunday night.
Thanks to the bum aftermarket starter, I spent several extra days in Bowdoinham hanging with sister, nephews, bro-in-lo, kids and Ma. Swimming in the very warm waters of the Cathance River, hanging out in my old kindergarten classroom, now the town library, staring across the yard at the chipmunks and birds busy with their business. It was lovely. Except I'm not working. Especially 'cause I'm not working.
I got back to the island as my neighbors were in varying states of recovery from the plane crash. I am in awe of the four aboard the plane and all those who went out to pull them from the sea, care for them and get them all medivac-ed to the mainland. You are all made of some very tough, fine material.
So it has been a very full week. Not very full of lobstering, though. The alligator wrestling match of getting a mud-embedded spruce tree out of the ornamental pond snapped me back to feeling like myself. Taking a chainsaw into a pond seemed a little crazy. I was never, ever adventurous as a young person. Really the opposite. Now, however, I need something challenging, physical and crazy to feel alive. I do not know why.