We took a walk. We went so far up-island it took almost a half hour to get where we were going. And after we parked the truck we had a quarter of a mile backtrack on foot to get to the start of the trail, which descended gradually, and then more steeply, to the edge of a large salt pond.
The edge of the pond seemed like a small boat graveyard. It wasn’t piled up like after a hurricane, but here and there were small boats, very much the worse for wear, washed up and upside-down. Most were well tucked-in with rolls of seaweed from subsequent storms. Shoreside bushes now reach out and partly cover these aging bottoms.
Writing about bottoms brings back a memory of the name of a boat owned by a friend of my father. The boat was a beetle cat, and the name was “Callipygia”. There’s a famous statue of Venus, in Greek she’s the “Venus Kallipygos”.
Take a look at her.
“Kalli” means beautiful. “Pygos” means buttocks. So: “Beautiful Bottom”. Now you know why my father’s friend named his beetle “Callipygea”.
But I digress.
Here on the beach, not yet in the bushes, was an old fiberglass sailing dinghy, nestled on the cobble. A person with desire, energy, and more time than money could still save this old hull. It would be a worthy and satisfying effort. I did that once, to a fiberglass dinghy found on the beach. But I won’t do that to this one.
I love the way sun, wind, sand, water, ice, and the passage of time have worked on a this surface.
The patterns that form are inevitable but yet random.
Old Miss Dyer’s side had charms.
Charms of time, of color, and of wear.
And of scratches?
What were these strange sgraffitian scrawls?
Where did they come from. What made them? I imagined that the scratches were made by an animal, perhaps someone’s dog, who at every passing just must climb up upon the hull, to see what can be seen.
I could have spent far more time admiring and contemplating than I did. Dog and dame won’t wait for this man, and it was time to catch up with my companions. Photographs, once in a camera can be revisited any time. I will revisit and study at leisure, later…
The visiting dog fantasy is fun, but improbable. What’s perhaps more likely is that while floating around the pond, the boat spent some time bobbing up and down against something, perhaps a bush’s broken branches.
What the cause was, the result was beauty.