More Cold Spring

The spuggies are fledged.

                                                -- Epigraph from Briggflatts by Basil Bunting

Yesterday dawned gray with a cold and damp north wind in the aftermath of an offshore gale that soaked our spring pollen with an inch or so of rain. By sunset, the sky stretched blue over scattered clouds, and the rose and turquoise horizon reflected deeply in the slick waters of creek and river. Royal terns perched on pilings beside laughing gulls. Dolphins finned past the point. An osprey plunged into the creek and rose with a sea trout in its talons. Pelicans floated by.

As ever, hope migrates with changing plans and as what we learn supersedes our understanding.

Cameron and I dropped a fat catfish head into the crab trap even though the water is probably too cold still.  We have caught none. Butch has caught one. Keith has had bushels of crabs so they must be coming from warmer shallow creeks.

As usual, Beth and Cameron rose early on this Saturday morn to be at the Farmers' Market when it opened. Bob's unwashed and unrefrigerated eggs with their humongous golden yellow yolks often sell out in less than ten minutes. Additionally, today the Herb Lady made her annual visit. Beth bought basil, parsley, cilantro, oregano, chamomile, lavender, mint and dill.

Per Beth, there were so many people running around town on this fine bright spring day that it reminded her of earthworms wriggling in garden soil after a summer rain.

With the herbs planted, watered and sunning on the starboard bench in the cockpit, much is right in our little world. But this is a boat, so there is usually something needing fixing. Today it is our refrigerator. Despite  a smart LED telling me what is wrong (low voltage), my meters disagree. Owner's manuals tend to exaggerate the simplicity of possible problems. I rarely fail to discover a possibility not addressed. So we plod on with cold winds, cool nights and a warm fridge, not quite what a perfect spring should be on coastal waters in the South.