The bamboo chimes are knee-knocking like merry skeletons and the tide is going out to reveal the secrets of the flats.
The men went fishing and I napped with Gibson and Lily napped with Owen and when we got up I made cookies and then we went down to the water again and played with the naked babies.
As with so much of my life these days, I am thinking deeply about what these boys will remember either consciously or -un. I deeply and truly hope that they do retain some sense of what this part of planet Earth is like. The water, the sea creatures, the sand and the great, wide sky. The way their parents and grandparents love them.
This, I think is the best thing they could take with them as they grow into adults. And selfishly, I realize that in this process, they take their parents and Glen and I too into an ever-more deep appreciation of it all and in doing so offer us whatever genuine joy there is in this thing we call life.
The whole messy, chaotic, simple grandeur of it.
That's the report from Dog Island, Florida tonight.
And happy birthday, May. And Bob Dylan too. Let's all live long and prosper.