From my window where I should be writing, I’m watching a sailor.

He’s hoisted his crisp white main sail, rimmed with a smaller triangle of ink; ten inches of black noir, like a contemporary dinner plate. It’s late, around eight; odd thing, being on the lake at full mast after dark.  He’s losing wind fast during this static air night. I know he should consider bringing both sails down before dark, yet for some reason he resists and both are billowed full.

Just another boat, but this sailor caught my fancy.   While most of the windmen around here boast main sails bearing flashes of gaudy color, angular rainbow stripes and the like — this one is remarkable.

The attire? Simple and clean. A garment Jackie Onassis Kennedy (or her sister) would have worn: not too much color, a subtle statement in a Walmart world.

An elegant dress for a windy day.

It reminds me of writing, how as authors we are tempted to pack our manuscripts with ancillary words, and how sometimes, we need an oddly placed reminder that one well-chosen word is better than many bright sails.


Here, it’s ski-thirty.  I meant to write all morning, I really did, however I got a *little* sidetracked.  Have a super Saturday!

Every year dozens of the white winged birds converge on our lake, landing like ordinary seagulls, until you look close, and the birds loom large.  Only in pairs.  They stay awhile, honking and flapping, until the anglers scare them off.   The same duo visits every year – I’m sure it’s the same; and they come hungry.  My Busy Son snapped this pic as they swooped into our beach for a snack.

I know.  I’m cheating.  Wasn’t actually writing whilst gazing through my writing window, but give me a break; it’s spring. Now, how do I work them into a story?