Saturday Morning

Our house here on the bay of Dog Island is funky but cozy. If you look at the pictures you will see, in two of them, a piece if pottery I found near the house here. Humans have come to this island for a very long time. I imagine they fished and ate from the sea as we do and that makes me happy. This house is as haunted as any place I've ever personally known and I assume that if it is unsettled spirits which haunt, then the ones here may come from long, long ago.

There were shipwrecks here too in the not-so-distant past so one never knows. I am a bit psychic but not to such a fine degree as to be able to discern such fine details. There have been actual sightings but not by me. I have only seen the spirits' handiwork.

Well. I am not afraid but I do keep my wits about me as there has been mischief if one sort or another over the years.

Mr. Moon is fishing again. Last night's mullet was sheer white-meat perfection. We ate it with cole slaw and cornbread. I would take pictures but by the time supper is ready we fall on it like hungry beasts.

It is lovely to be here with that man. I find that we do well together, just the two if us. We make each other laugh. We are sweet.

We have seen a few other people now but only to say hello to and pass on. One does not come to this island if one is heavily invested in socializing.

Yesterday I walked the flats at low tide in front if the house wearing my nightgown. It is that sort of place.
A place to sit and watch a great blue heron fish at the changing of the tide for long, long moments. A place to become softer in the heart and in the dance through space. I do not feel the dramatic rearranging of myself that I feel in Mexico, but more a peaceful calming. A letting go of so much of what I do not really need, and thus a lightening of spirit and it is good to sit and let the waves make my music, let the dancing butterflies and dragonflies be my amusement, let my husband be my only company.