If you are ever to explore new shores, the trick is to cast off your lines. Leave the dock. The stars may not be perfectly aligned and that last chore may not be complete, but at some point it is time to say your goodbyes, imagine the band playing and push away from the pier; setting yourself loose to the current, the winds, and the vagaries of the diesel engine.
On October 20, we pulled in our dock lines and waved goodbye to our friend, Tom Barnes, as we left the Florence Harbor Marina. We powered downstream through the Tennessee River, reaching Two Rocks Anchorage at dusk. The evening was calm and the Traveler sat gently on the water as the sun set.
It’s chilly here.
J and T are at the Tulsa Gun Show. We’re buying gun safe and a pick up. What does that say about a definition of an almost retired married couple? I say it means they have good sense.
J saw A’s father the other day. Dropped by with Ezra.
I tried sending Keats’ poem “To Autumn” last time. It’s a beautiful autumn here. Not so much the colors as the morning glories still blooming amidst the brown leaves.
Enjoy your odyssey. Water is memory.
“…the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.”