Where others strolled with their buckets of shells, we were dragging leaf bags along, combing the wrack zone, that line of debris where the tide recedes; where all manner of incongruent sea life coalesces. Steve and I shared a passion we never would with anyone else. Steve knew much about how to work kelp and take advantage of its ability to become as leather when wet, and wooden when dried. I followed through with finished products in my own style. [Read More]
Archives for August 2012
The horses slipped through the small cracks in the crowd. They entered a few feet, then stopped and shifted around. Not sure what to do, surrounded so closely on all sides by quietly standing humans, the horses seemed deeply uncomfortable about stepping on people. They seemed to say to their riders, “What are you doing! You want me to hurt these people who have been petting my nose for the past month? No. I don’t think so.” [Read More]
The sloshing of bloody water from the cutting board
proclaims another crimson muscle-bound Chinook
has given life in the beautiful spectacle of
a carefully-guided filet knife only a salty,
wave-beaten man can sheath on a belt by his side.
Counting steps one
is open to chaos.
One ankle is sprained
feeding ducks before work.
Then glasses are squashed
during one lame hunt for
the perfect book to wow
a whitewater scholar.