My sister is on the telephone from Gloucester, Massachusetts. She is sitting on her balcony at the Cape Ann Motor Inn enjoying the view of the twin lighthouses on Thacher Island. Though the motel is situated on a substantial stretch of nice beach, the rocky shore so typical is visible on either end. Denise has always wanted to see the rocky coast. We have deep, sandy beaches in the South, which are popular, of course, and beautiful, but there is a romance in the ocean waves breaking on the boulders so characteristic of New England.
Denise lives outside Mount Airy, North Carolina, ( in the community of Pine Ridge, to be exact )on a little patch of ground that was part of my Grandpa Coalson's farm. As a child she loved the stories of Nathaniel Hawthorne and Louisa May Alcott and longed to see the places they described. This is her first trip to New England and she has been overcome. Apparently, they have been overcome by her as well.
"Every old man I've seen has proposed," says she. "They love my accent."
Tom and I are hoping she accepts one of these offers. We would love nothing more than to situate a relative near a cove in Massachusetts where the lobster boats sell their catch on the dock.
Time in the Life of a Dung Beetle
It has been a while since I have blogged, except for contributing a few words to Tom's column. Have so much to share, there is so much going on in the Civil War/Western community over the summer. Will endeavor to catch up over the next few days.
We finished moving stuff from the little house in Weston over the weekend; I'm sure the neighbors sat in amazement as we dragged load after load out of that tiny cottage. I'll miss that little spot, but am so happy to have all my clothes, mementos--LIFE--under one roof for the first time in years. Between taking care of Tom's mother, operating the shop downtown, and finally, moving to Weston, Noel and I have been scattered to the winds for so long. It feels good to be home. How ironic. . . as I write about this, listening to AOL Radio tuned to the bluegrass station, of course, Tony Rice is singing "Cold on the Shoulder." In the words of writer Gordon Lightfoot,
All we need is time, time, time. . . . All we need is trust, trust, trust. . . . All we need is faith, faith, faith . . . . It's cold on the shoulder and you know we get a little older every day. . . .
Time, Trust, Faith. . . .
This is a photo of the Garden of Eden, Lucas, Kansas, that I took last week when we visited with our friends. ( Looks more like something from Dante's Inferno, doesn't it? ) For the Cliff Notes version of the spot and our time there, see Tom's blog from today. And if you ever get close to Lucas, take advantage of the Grassroots Art that permeates the town.