Fishing Tales

The Boss

Every evening now, at dusk, fishermen and women line the shores of Mutiny Bay hoping to catch the big one. They are dressed in shorts, tee shirts and sunglasses and the high tide teases at their bare toes. In  movements like graceful dancers, they cast bright pink lures into the calm water.

The air feels soft and warm against my bare arms as I walk my beach route. I am casting my lures for a different kind of fish… ideas that will nourish the weeks ahead.

On Tuesday, the bulldozer came and dug a long trench next to the east wall where the water was collecting and sneaking into my warm house. Goodbye to the white lilac and the red twig dogwood at the corner of the house. Goodbye to the passion flower vine that was finally making a comeback. In a moment of gratitude, I notice that I can say goodbye also to the voracious weeds that were choking the path. What I have now is a clean slate of pebbles…

Goodbye was the theme this week as three fellow workers said farewell one by one. Familiarity is sifting through my hands like the white sand of Mutiny Bay. It’s difficult to find my footing in all of the changes.

Earlier today, I spent the day cutting out pages for two new books I have in mind. The repetitive motion of tearing against the deckle ruler, turning the paper, tearing again, was soothing. Restful. Next I cut covers… first the book boards, and then the papers, considering and reconsidering what I wanted to say with my artwork.

Now, as I walk, images leap like the evening salmon. I cast my net wide. Energy and momentum begin to flop in my fishing creel.

By next week, I hope to have six already completed books listed for sale on my Etsy site. Then, my new hat to wear will be as shopkeeper… arranging my cyber shelves in an artful way and figuring out ways to promote my products. It’s another creative venue. And hopefully, one that will help me catch more than my limit.

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