The northeast wind stopped by early this week just to remind me that she’d be back later to rattle my windows and sandblast my shingles. Thanks, northeast.
The skunks and geese have returned as well, and won’t be leaving any time soon. The skunks arrive green side at my golf course to enjoy a ripe crop of grubs rustling just below the surface. The geese are content just to hang out, poop on stuff, chit-chat, and stumble about (like my nephews). I’d call them lazy but I understand that they fly quite a bit and maybe deserve a rest.
I may have waited too long this summer to get out on my paddle board. The seas are choppier and cooler now, so the prospect of falling off said board is both greater and less appealing. There’s always next year, but as one grows older those next years do become fewer. I think maybe I need to treat my time on Chappy more as a vacationer would, and maximize my pleasure while in residence.
I wonder what people miss most when away from Chappy, because I feel this column is mostly for them: the off-islanders. I figure most of the folk on Chappy already know what’s going on (and by going on, I mean the weather), so this column holds less intrigue for the residents. Consequently, I try to remember what it is that I miss when I’m away — what would I like to be remembered whilst elsewhere. In this light, I’ll tell you these few things about Chappy right now. In early morning, if the wind is light, I can hear the Chappy ferry across the harbor making its first trip across — the hum that reminds me of home. At the end of the day, the water gets striped with orange as neighbors in hoodies and jeans wait by the Chappy shack to grab a bite in town, and the sand in the parking lot smells of dropped mollusks. During the day, the sky opens up to be filled in with cotton batting of clouds.
That’s Chappy. As she is now.