Here's how a three night weekend to the island goes:
One day to get there, one day to recover from the getting-there, one day to enjoy ourselves immensely, and one day to get home and unpack.
The following day at home is devoted to laundry and more recovery.
I think if I were younger, like, in my thirties or forties, this would not be such a big deal but truly, I do not have the energy I used to have. That's just all there is damn to it.
Anyway, we got the house over there all tidied up and the beds all remade and the towels all washed and dried and folded and put away and the dishes all washed and put away and the garbage all taken and everything locked up. We crossed the bay without incident and and with one dolphin sighting which is always a thrill. Always. A thrill and a blessing.
Vergil and Jessie helped with everything so much today. They toted and packed and cleaned and Vergil drove the truck down to the ramp so Mr. Moon could get the boat on the trailer and truly, they cut our work in half.
Still. So tired.
But here we are, home again, and our house sitters were wonderful and amazing and they left everything here clean and tidy and although the dogs are still alive, I am so grateful to come home to a neat house. Buster and Dolly have finally stopped barking at Greta and so there is a little peace.
We are home. I get to sleep in my own bed tonight.
And may my dreams not be rotten but sweet.
Here's the little video Jessie took on my iPad of the water spout on Saturday. I hope it comes out okay because it was pretty cool.
Nature. Too much? Not enough? Just right?
Whatever, generally impressive when it occurs on Dog Island.