Sylvia's Journal

Today it is Tuesday morning, August 19. When I started my computer this morning to write, a reminder popped up. It said: vacation. As if I might forget!

I woke up from a dream that had me back in a leg cast. First I was in a wheelchair but I forgot it someplace and a nice gentleman came to my rescue with crutches and accompanied me to a hospital that was without power. During a rare moment when power returned we took the elevator up to a floor with cancer patients and premature babies. It made my handicap feel very insignificant. The rest of the dream had vanished by the time I started writing.

We are living entirely by the tides; a sharp contrast with the life back home that is controlled by the clock. I have not worn my watch since we got here. It is lying uselessly on my bedside table. I will put it back on when it is time to go home, which is, much too soon, tomorrow already.

This morning the Cambodian cat is sitting by my side, wanting attention. She too has a motor that roars as she purrs like there is no tomorrow. She is skinny with a black and fox red fur that makes her look more like a wild animal. Her orange coated sister must have gone out hunting; she’s nowhere in sight. This is a good thing, writing with two purring machines that try to walk over my keyboard and rubbing my screen would have been a bit much.

I woke up at my usual time, the crack of dawn, an hour before dead low tide when we will go on a clamming expedition. We had planned to do that yesterday but not everyone was up. Axel slept in and we felt no need to wake him. Instead Katie Blair and I sat on the deck overseeing the sweep of the bay and the cloudless sky. It was a 10 plus day and we spent it entirely outdoors. A long walk to one of the many points, along a path cut through lush poison ivy interspersed with ripe blackberries on each side. I was the mosquito attractor and allowed the others to have a free ride; still it was wonderful. We sat overlooking the ocean and listened to Katy Blair explaining family relationships and landholdings, and when we had enough of those (there is no end to these stories), she told us classroom stories about children with Asperger or underdeveloped sensory nerve endings. Since we are reading much about brains and nerves, these stories are fascinating to us; beside, KB is a gifted story teller.

I collected crab remains that the sea gulls had left on the rocks. I was looking for shapes and colors that made them good objects for my water color painting, anticipating this activity with great joy later in the day. They were added to the fava beans, the raw beans, the cooked beans and the pods which were also waiting to be water colored. I fell for the many shades of green which I hoped to re-create. I brought the instructions from my water color mixing class, a skill I once possessed but have lost since.

The day slowly unfolded; a post-walk swim, a late lunch consisting of cold soups; a boat ride on the other side of the peninsula in white-capped waters and stiff winds that we had been unaware of in our lee-side hideaway; another walk on the beach, and finally the long awaited water coloring; and the day was still not over. We started cooking at 8 PM, a large wild salmon with the new potatoes and various grilled vegetables. Dinner too was a long and drawn out affair, as the entire day had been. But when dinner was over I had nothing left in me. I don’t even remember putting my head on my pillow.