Ramblings, Regrets, and Intangibles
The wind was singing me a song as it whipped through the rigging. I walked slowly through the line of moored boats, enjoying the tune. Each rope made a slightly different tone as the wind whistled past it, and together, all the different sounds made up one wild, haunting melody. I wanted to put words to that melody, but I hadn't a scrap of paper nor a pencil to write with. Crumbs! I'd forgotten again . There seems to be a limit on the number of things I can remember. And, since I had remembered my jacket, camera, and shoes, it naturally followed that I had forgotten the notebook and pencil. It was a pity, too. I was walking through one of my favorite types of country: salt marsh. Flat, empty land, carpeted in varying shades of green and dotted by brilliant blue rivers and pools. Overhead, the sun shone down through drifting banks of cumulus clouds. Between earth and sky there walked a strong wind that brought the savor of salt to my nostrils. Everything inspired me. The co...