I opened the day sitting on a beach in Lawrencetown (N.S.), watching some hardy souls surf the Atlantic waves. I shut the day down on the shores of my New Brunswick lake, strumming my guitar as the sun set. That's how every day should be bookended, except that I should have been surfing, and not sitting. That will change as I've just purchased a surfboard, dude.
Today's itinerary hasn't really allowed me to spend much time on the blog. Beyond all the interprovincial driving, there's much that's been happening in my Cambridge-Narrows world; some of it brilliant, some of it tragic. My mind is scattered this evening so I don't feel like penning something that is less than carefully considered.
Tomorrow I'll address a care package that was left on my doorstep. Someone in this village has a wicked sense of humour and I think I know who it is. Sunday's post will be about yard sales, sex and pre-Industrial Age toasters, unless I come up with a better idea in a dream sequence.