Hello. I begin with this boat. My uncle who died last month, was building it in the garage of his island home. Now he is sailing in heaven with my aunt who died just a short time (within weeks) before he did. One day, when we stopped in to see him, he showed me the boat. I asked, "Who is going to go with you when you take it out in the Sound? "A good sailor," was his reply. He did not finish his boat. It is still in the garage, like a ship in a bottle. It provided Uncle Don with many dividend days. I'll finish with some talk of "dividend days" but I found another delicious portion of verse this morning:
to see clearly
by Maya Stein
I am no magic trick, no doer of miracles, no water walker.
I am no architect of glory, no layer-on of hands, no angel wing.
I am no weaver of gold, no mythmaker, no parachute artist.
I am no halo of stillness in a downpour.
I am no treasure chest, no hero, no thunderbolt wielder.
I am no rabbit foot or lottery number.
I am no combination lock, no mystery ingredient, no optical illusion.
But here is a handful of sunflowers from the florist's sidewalk jungle.
Here is a blanket to spread on the grass for an afternoon.
Here is a song on the radio that calls for dancing.
Here is a chocolate bar I share with you.
Here is a road sign, a notebook, photographs of those I have loved.
Here is a slice of bright blue sky, a hummingbird
thrashing her wings around an apricot tree.
To see clearly
I was browsing in my Stillmeadow Daybook by Gladys Taber and while reading the chapter titled, January, I came upon these words:
"Now and then in January we get what I call a dividend day. The sun is clear and warm and the sky soft as lake water. The tree trunks seem to glow in the light, and a hundred misty colors appear in the swamp. The birds are very gay, they seem to fly with a lighter wing somehow, and the dogs sit by the well-house and dream quite as if it were spring. Squirrels whip around in the maples, always so busy and so important. I think a squirrel would make a good bank president, he saves, he is thrifty, and he feels important, and he must have a very sound head on him. The Quiet Garden on such a day is lucid with sun, and looks as if we might even eat there. I toy with the idea, but Jill says firmly, the benches will be cold as glaciers. And I realize they will. "
We've had some "dividend days" here. The sun is bright and it smells like spring. I think my uncle had the sweet dividend days he needed. I think of a favorite quote:
"If you want to build a ship, don't drum up the men to gather wood, divide the work and give orders. Instead, teach them to yearn for the vast and endless sea."
~Antoine de Saint-Exupery
It doesn't matter that my uncle did not finish his boat, board it, and sail it out into the Puget Sound, because what kept him pottering in the garage was his love for the vast and endless sea.
I wish you light and a dividend day.