The Game Cometh

That precarious, slightly hypnotic laze toward of the end of the season setting in.
The last minute preparations mount and mutiny
The unwary carry forth their bravado as though they weren't
The wary reading their antipodes with crystalline clarity
The question becomes whether grey opposes blue absolutely
or only in their off years
The on years always predicting with no uncertainty and no brag

Canada Bound

Just got back from dropping a canoe trip at the boudary waters at Orient, ME. Was in New Brunswick only to hastily unload canoes and bid fairlucks to the group departing. Crossing over to America, towing an empty canoe trailer behind an unmarked white van, I encounter a member of our Homeland Security force who accepts my proffered ID, not asking for an additional form (of ID) as did his predecessor. His primary inquiry is regarding materials I might be transporting across the border: firearms, tobacco, meat, etc. and I regard him placidly, pronouncing that I have none of those things. He, after inspecting the rear of the van, opening up the doors for a few seconds, asks me where the oufit I'm running is out of. I tell him out of Belgrade, ME. He tells me I have Kansas plates, he gets confused. I tell him the camp leases the vans out of Kansas for the summer for use with the kids who attend the camp which is located on Great Pond, in Maine. He tells me that it is weird that the Kansas plates, combined with my Oregon driver's license, are in front of him. I say 'OK'. He half-nods. I nod and drive away back into the USA.

Look Who's Back

I’ve been living in the first cabin on the mainland across from Pine Island since June 11^th. It’s quite a transition from living a block off the busiest avenue in Bogota. The sunsets here are always spectacular and I usually run out of names for the colors they describe upon the horizon. The other day we sat on the swinging bench in front of the kitchen dock and watched a peregrine falcon dive for fish. Every night outside my cabin the fireflies flirt green and yellow, dancing to the accompaniment of the loons lonely cries. On days with a brisk breeze, the squadrons of dragonflies dominate the parking circle in front of the mainland dock, devastating the mosquitoes with hypnotic grace and agility. I surprised an otter creeping along the shore a couple weeks ago.

I’m on the road almost every day; to Mass, New Hampshire, all points Maine, and up into Canada, and back, dropping off and picking up the camping trips sent out by the camp. I’m on a rare day off today and able to access the e-world. My buddy Rhoades hosted a BBQ at his place on the Rome Road last night and we really feasted it up: roasted sweet potatoes, lobster rolls, chicken, green salad, salsa and beer and a bonfire out back.