There’s an Instagram feed I’ve seen called “Fellow Passengers,” which briefly profiles random people. I love that idea, and this guy would be perfect for it.
It’s taken 8 years, but Sal has blinged and bejeweled this camper inside and out. He likes to park and chat with folks as he and his companion make regular repairs to the exterior decor with something like a caulk gun.
He prefers this spot at the entrance to the Shelter Island pier, but he travels with the camper too. He likes all the honks and thumbs up he gets when he drives on the highway. He has a home in a town close to where we live, but sometimes he sleeps in the camper.
This saw blade with a deer painted on it was the first thing he attached to the exterior. Then, something took over.
What a great project for retirement life: a mobile conversation piece that requires some, but minimal, upkeep. And should the day come when he can no longer drive, he can just park in his favorite spot and take a nap. Or pull out one of his many fishing poles and cast away.
We went fishing with the Lords of the Land today. That’s what I lovingly call the people who own the house we’re renting.
James and I picked up some poles at Walmart, and we all drove into town to meet our landlords who have more experience with the activity than we do, but barely.
Fish weren’t hungry it seemed. One of the highlights was the boys feeding bait fish to the pelicans hanging out at the pier.
Enzo threw a couple, but James was more persistent.
A heron showed up, but he was awful at catching the fish. Yes, his beak is considerable smaller, but he turned his head as of to say, “don’t throw that thing at me!” He really didn’t get it.
If you can’t see the bait fish in any picture, just look to the seagull…his eyes never left it.
Although they caught most, there were times they just couldn’t get a handle on it.
I guess we’re in no place to judge. Our family caught zip. Our friends?
When things don’t change much season to season, one notices the little things.
When it comes to Fall, I’m acutely attuned.
It’s my favorite season. At least every where else we’ve ever lived.
Here it’s just a big joke, really.
Especially when your neighbor keeps his gargoyles out year-round.
Over there it is, anyway.
Today I took a quick jaunt up a well-travelled trail nearby, in prep for a trail 1/2 marathon that will be neither quick nor jaunty this weekend. I encountered this apparent snake trail when I diverted to a different path after seeing this cross the trail ahead of me:
I did my good deed by back tracking a bit to inform a couple of older women hiking behind me that they might want to change course. Fortunately, this weekend there will be plenty of others ahead of me on the trail to scare away the varmints before I get there. Not that I ever was, but there are fewer incentives to being head of the pack these days. I like it.
Some days nothing strikes me as picture worthy, or I don’t take time to look around and notice, or I just plain forget to take a photo. Then those kids really come in handy.