Write about: the sailor.
Seeded some beets and carrots in the garden this morning before marking out the rows where our leeks, onions, and shallots will be transplanted. Kat and I are planning on working on that tomorrow morning while Max hangs out with his grandma.
After we woke up from our afternoon nap I took Max into town to deposit a couple of box program payments (hurray for offering an early bird discount in order to get money sooner) and to check out the park. It was incredibly busy there, as there was a family reunion/get together of some sorts going on. Balls, babies, puppies... Max was pretty much in heaven.
Weather-wise, it felt like an early summer day. So nice.
The constant creak of timber won't let me forget where I sleep. This rocking, swaying, lurching deck will always remind me where I stand. Salted air, fish-filled meals, sweat and alcohol; my nostrils need no further evidence of this place I call home.
Captain says we should see land any day now. So my eyes search the horizon at every opportunity, as though they would spot a tree before the man in the crow's nest could. Old Lucky's eye isn't that poor. But I look anyway. I can't help it.
It's been too many days of nothing but waves and sky out there. I need to see something different. Need to know that solid ground still exists. I want to believe that women still survive, still wear exotic perfumes and pretty dresses. My tongue aches for fresh food.
I need off this blasted ship.