Office Hours at the Boatyard

 
No
 airless
  cubicle
  here, no standard
  desk, no dull constraint
  or purposeless command.
  Rippled waves of thought ebb out,
  flow back; the feathered word takes flight
  and circles to the sky, seeking new
  companions, taut wires on which to land.

Comments are welcome. To leave a comment, please click below.
For more information on the Etheree, a syllabic poem containing ten lines and a total of fifty-five syllables, please click HERE and HERE.

85 thoughts on “Office Hours at the Boatyard

    1. Thanks, Martha. Most of my work is in marinas or yacht clubs, but when I get a chance to work in a yard, I always enjoy it. You’ve been around boats enough to know about acceptance in a yard. If you can do your work, do it well, and do it for a full day, that’s all that’s required.

      So easy!

      Linda

    1. That’s easy, Jim. I work like crazy when I can, and when it rains, I write. And when yard crews, birds, pollen, wind, rain, dew, cold or heat mess up my work, I just sand it off and do it again at no charge.

      No wonder I obsess about the weather!

      Linda

  1. Dear Linda;

    You know how much I love your lead-ins…often so exquisitely written that your prose is poetry…and does its job..leads us in!! This is at least the second time the lead-in was also a poem I never suspected! It reads so perfectly in its structure that the etheree was a wow surprise!! Would like to think Armstrong is looking down from heaven and smiling with glee to have her poetry form so well treated!!

    Yes, and ahh for the open and un-confined workspace. At least even when there are customer deadlines, you share the space not only with words or thoughts that take flight but actual winged creatures of sea and sky!!

    1. Judy,

      What a wonderful compliment. To be able to use a form while allowing that form essentially to disappear into the words it contains is more of a feat than I ever realized. One of these days, I may mess around with some other forms — sonnets and villanelles particularly — just to begin stretching my own wings, like your precious nestlings.

      I do hope Armstrong — and all the other writers we love so — have some sense of how important their work is to us, how it still influences through time.

      You’re so right about the pleasure my office-mates give me. This has been quite a week. Great egrets, great blue herons, green herons, coots, seagulls, least bitterns, kildeer, mallards — they’re all there, supervising, kibbitzing, scolding. Some of the winter birds are gone now, but others are arriving. It’s time for them to get to work, too!

      Linda

    1. Rosemay, your artistic eye is at work. Some people use this form by aligning all the words to the left, but I like this much better. It’s a bit of a Rorschach effect. When I wrote about the prairie and “thoughtsteading”, one reader saw the form as a building thundercloud. Interesting.

      I’m amused that I hadn’t seen the prow. Thanks for pointing it out.

      Linda

    2. That is a great call on the shape! I usually think in terms of a Christmas tree…but prow of a boat works way better since that is the part that projects forward or leads us in…and given Linda’s setting of course.

  2. Lovely, Linda. THIS is why some of us aren’t suited at all for traditional office work — I need to feel the air and sunlight, sniff the scents and hear the sounds of nature. Doing what I do gives me that privilege, and I never take it for granted. Well written!

    1. Debbie,

      I was out of office work long before computers, cubicles and Dilbert. Every day I give thanks. Even before I started working on boats, there was plenty of flexibility in schedules, and I wasn’t chained to a desk. Today, the thought of returning to professional life or working in a corporate office — well, it makes me glad I’m so old no one would want me!

      Like you, I love the connection to nature in my day. More people need it, badly.

      I’m glad you enjoyed it, and that it resonated with you.

      Linda

    1. Thank you, Kayti. I took the photo some months ago, and really wanted to do something with it. I was heading in another direction, but the etheree showed up and it seems to have paired well with the photo.

      To be outside, in the sun and with the gulls is wonderful. It’s not even too bad being out in the clouds and the wind. I’m enjoying every minute now, because summer’s on its way, and by July it won’t be so pleasant. On the other hand, they say all that perspiration is good for the complexion. ;)

      Linda

  3. The word “office” on the sign in your photograph sent me to A New Book of Quotations, by H.L. Mencken, published in 1942. One quotation he included in the section titled Office was by John C. Calhoun, from a speech in the Senate on July 13, 1835: “The very essence of a free government consists in considering offices as public trusts, bestowed for the good of the country, and not for the benefit of an individual or a party.” That sense of office” is an older one than ‘workplace’ or ‘headquarters’, but still as relevant as the quotation containing it.

    1. Relevant, indeed. You might remember my initial post about my trip last fall, which was a bit of an overview. I included this photo of the plaque embedded into the Cass County Courthouse after a very difficult struggle over taxes, bonds, and the personal gains which accrued to some of those involved.

      On the front of that same courthouse, which was built in the late 1800s, a cautionary motto has been inscribed. It says, “A Public Office Is A Public Trust.” It would be interesting to know if Calhoun’s speech influenced that choice in some way, or if the concept of a public trust was more generally acknowledged in those days.

      Linda

      1. The same quotation book attributes “Public office Is a public trust” to the Democratic National Program of 1892. Mencken followed that later quotation with a note referring back to Calhoun’s statement from 1835.

        And yes, I do remember your post and the plaque at the Cass County Courthouse. Let’s hear it for integrity.

  4. How wonderfully you arrive to this last phrase “taut wires on which to land”! That’s why I love to read your posts. Your message is clear, firm, well lived or documented.

    I cannot imagine you ever subjugating yourself to a “purposeless command.” You answer to self-made pursuits that seem like avocations filled with joyful opportunity not to be taken for granted. Thomas A. Edison said “Opportunity is hard work dressed in overalls” and that’s how I picture you in the boat yard, very comfortable in those overalls. Still, fashioning a self-made life, I’m sure is not without its own pressure and stressors.

    Well done!

    1. Georgette,

      One of the most delightful spring sights in the marinas is the arrival of the swallows in March, and the somewhat later wheeling-in of the red-winged blackbirds, who often travel with other grackels or blackbirds.

      The swallows perch along life lines or dock lines and sing. After the babies are hatched, they’ll line up and wait patiently for their parents to bring them their next meal.

      As for the red-winged blackbirds, they prefer to hang on to the rigging, for all the world as though they’re atop a cornstalk in an Iowa field. It’s such a pleasure to see them, and listen to their song.

      You’ve given me my best laugh in a while with your comment that you can’t imagine me ever subjugating myself to a purposeless command. Truth to tell, I’ve done plenty of that in my life. But not recently.

      Linda

    1. Eremophila, I suspect you know the truth of that as well as anyone. It was a lesson I began learning when I lived in Liberia, and sailing reinforced it. In fact, it was sailing that turned me toward varnishing. I loved the boats, and loved the water. So – why not make a living with them?

      Linda

  5. Hellooooo. Just thought I’d drop in and see what you’ve been up to and lo and behold, a poem! And a just right one too. Love the structure, the approach and how you manage to make it seem all so effortless – I KNOW it’s not. Screwing up pieces of paper and chucking them in the bin has become a daily habit. I’m trying to write one a week and it’s taken over my life. Us outdoor types are so lucky to have the wind as our walls :)

    I’ve very much enjoyed this visit, I’ll come again :) Hope you’re well. The spring has begun (she says, a gale battering the windows) and the cows and humans have cheered up.

    1. thinkingcowgirl,

      What a pleasure to see you. I’ve been wondering how things were with you and the girls, and your writing. I hope things are drying out, and that spring is well and truly on its way. Cheerful cows seem like a good sign, and cheerful humans are even better.

      The poems are funny creatures. I have a file I call “poetry drafts”, and there are several bits in there just waiting to be fleshed out.
      Eventually, something clicks, and things come together — I know which one is ready to be worked on. With the last etheree I wrote, the last line came to me fully formed. With this one, it was the word “cubicle”. I often joke about a boat being my “cube”, and I guess that’s what’s been knocking about in my head. When the photo op presented itself, things started to jell.

      I love the image of wind as our walls. And the sun beats fluorescent lighting every time.

      Linda

    1. I wouldn’t say fortunate’s the right word, Martha, but I can’t think of a better one just now — so we’ll let that one do.

      I like the quotation from Edison that Georgette left: “Opportunity is hard work dressed in overalls.” It could be dressed in a three-piece suit, or a pretty dress for all that, but it’s the work that’s been so satisfying. To make an impulsive decision, then learn a trade, then build a business and sustain it? It feels like a gift I’ve given myself.

      Linda

    1. phil,

      This really was a capture. When a customer over on Davis Road had his boat shipped out to San Diego, I went over to South Texas the day they unstepped the mast and hauled it, to take a few photos before it got shrink-wrapped. I happened to see that sign laying on the ground. It made me laugh then, and I still laugh. It’s almost as good as the sign they used to have over at Seabrook Shipyard that said, “No cash, no splash.”

      I’m not sure any of the sailing magazines would want this. Places like “Telltales” have picked up stories, though. Maybe I should run it by them. Now, if I could whomp up something like “An Ode to Kevlar,” it would be a winner for sure.

      Linda

  6. Hello, Linda;

    Thanks for bringing a smile to my face this morning! Reading your wonderful poem made not just a wave, but a whole tide-ful of nostalgia come in and and it’s continuing to roll around me. What a pleasant sensation… so many funny memories, too! I haven’t worked on boats or in boat yards since 2008, but thinking back on those many, many years always warms my heart.
    Thanks again. :-) ~ Beth

    1. Beth,

      I still remember the wonderful photos you shared with us from those years – especially of your family’s boat.

      Things are changing a bit in the big yards now, but there still are some small ones tucked around that allow owners to work, stay aboard while working, and all that. There’s a camaraderie in those yards I’ve never experienced anywhere else. Of course, I’ve never worked construction or on a road crew, so I can’t say for sure that it doesn’t exist elsewhere. I’m just glad to have been part of it over the years.

      The biggest difference between the Cape and the Gulf is the weather, of course, and our ability to keep the yards working year around. Sometimes I think it would be great to have a “down” time during the year — and then I remember all the marine snowbirds who show up during the winter, looking for work in the warmth.

      I’m glad to have given you a smile and to have roused some memories.

      Linda

      1. Yes, boat yards, they are a-changing. One of my favorite old yards was Chester Crosby and Sons in Osterville, MA. I visited there sometime back after an absence of about 30 years and although I knew it had been sold, just the same, I was really dismayed to see that the original buildings were all gone. It was now a characterless, modern structure that might have been selling garage doors or aluminum siding for all you could tell from the outside.

        Our boat yards and marinas still operate all winter. The commercial fishing boats still need to use the harbors and facilities, even after the seasonal boaters are done for the year. The off-season is when most of the maintenance, upgrades and repairs take place…. largely indoors, naturally, when the boats are shuffled around the yard via travel lift of fork lift to one of the huge ‘sheds’.

        The camaraderie was indeed something special. My co-workers may have had more than the usual number of idiosyncrasies you’d expect to find in the workplace, but as you know, boats often attract the independent, free-spirited, not-quite-pinkies-up kind of guys (as one said, prided himself on being “rude, crude and lewd”) but they were generally good folks, in spite of their somewhat anti-social behavior and being a bit on the wild and woolly side.

        I still dream about working in those yards and occasionally stop in to say hello to old friends. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been: they always greet me cheerfully… old bosses give me a hug and a kiss… pals stop and chew the fat as we mark the years and chapters in our lives, talk about who is still with us and who has passed.

        I’m still smiling! That must have been a tidal wave of nostalgia! Thanks again for the fun memories!

        1. I was astonished today to drive past a public yard and see a wooden boat with the most beautiful lines being worked on. It looked like the planks just had been laid. I’m going to make a point of going back, to find out what the story is. We don’t see things like that around here very often. It’s a fiberglass world, now, at least when it comes to new boats. But it’s also a seller’s market for the old-style cruisers. There still are people who want ratlines and wood – thank goodness!

          I do think one reason the ties among the craftspeople are so strong is that we all develop ties with the boats, too — as well as with each other. And many of us have been caring for the same boats for a decade or two – that’s a lot of history to share.

          I’m anxious for settled weather and some nice breezes instead of this infernal wind. It’s time to get out on the water again.
          A friend picked up a Bay Hen and thinks he’ll have it ready for the water in another month. One of my favorite videos shows a Bay Hen in your part of the world. Enjoy!

          Linda

  7. Once a reporter asked if he could go along to check the crab pots with my nephew. When they were out on the water, he asked him why he had chosen this way of life. My nephew turned and pointed at the rush hour traffic on the bridge in the distance and said, “They’re all going to offices and other jobs that will keep them inside all day. I’ll spend my day out here.”

    1. Bella Rum,

      Exactly. And there’s something else, beyond being outdoors, that I’ve always appreciated. At the end of the day you can count your crabs, or see a rail sanded. There’s not much question about whether it was a good day or a bad day, a productive day or a washout.

      Speaking of — I hope things are going well with your brother and his boat. That was a bad day at the office, for sure.

      Linda

  8. Oh how I do so love this! You see? I’m a visual reader. I picture things as I absorb the words. And I imagine all the thinking you do while sanding away, and how those words take flight like birds and settle on wires in your brain or out there in “idea land” somewhere.

    What a great little poem. I know it’s a term that starts with an E, and I’ve even written a couple, but the correct spelling escapes me at the moment and I don’t have time to look it up!!! Great job, Linda!

    1. Bayou Woman,

      Etheree’s the name of the form. I tucked a little note with a couple of links at the very bottom of the post, below the poem, if you want a refresher on the form itself.

      I’m so glad you like it. And I laughed at your suggestion that those words flock in to settle on wires in my brain. I had a sudden vision of my brain as an old, old house, with glass insulators on the wires and a crooked, bent tv antenna up top — sort of Edward Gorey meets Wendell Berry. That’s a conversation I’d stay around for!

      Linda

    1. Thanks, Becca. I’m like anyone else — I gripe when it’s too hot, too cold, too wet, too this or that, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

      Isn’t that prow shape something? I still can’t believe I didn’t see it.

      Linda

  9. Wow, what a great image: words winging their way – sent forth by the wonder of work/poiesis grounded in the material.

    Airless cubicles offer us so little inspiration, and forms for the sake of forms for the sake of forms simply have to be a foretaste of hell. But soil, and sand and sanding and sweat are surely another sort of meal.

    I don’t mean to be romantic about manual labour, but I fear that the word work has today become vacuous, so pliable in form as to refer to spending time rather than expending the self so that it ebbs out, and flows back. Many thanks!

    1. Allen,

      You know, we all have our favorite fantasies. Mine is that every bureaucrat, politician, academician, professional religious, and so on should have the opportunity to experience the joys of manual labor on a regular basis.So many people I know never have a sense that they’re producing anything, let alone something of value. And they pay so little attention to the close relationship between cause and effect. Politicians, for example, pass legislation that turns the world upside down, and then go their merry way, never directly experiencing a single effect in their own lives. There are a couple I’d love to see working construction for a year.

      I think your “forms for the sake of forms for the sake of forms” is exactly on target. I couldn’t help but think of Sisyphus when I read that. And, the word drudgery came to mind. Even people who don’t know the story Sisyphus recognize his experience when it comes to them.

      As for romanticizing manual labor — it’s true that there’s nothing very romantic about exhaustion, injuries, dehydration or frostbite. But it’s also true that, in losing “real” work, we lose something of ourselves. How else to explain the popularity — and the wonderful irony — of millions of people sitting on their sofas watching shows like “The Deadliest Catch” or “Dirty Jobs”?

      When I was driving through Oklahoma last fall, I passed several farms and ranches that were using semi trucks as personal billboards. One of them asked, “Are you a Watcher or a Worker?”
      I liked that one.

      Linda

    1. Mary,

      Thoughts taking wing is its own beautiful image. Sometimes, a single thought begins its slow and steady flight, like a heron gliding over a marsh. And sometimes, thoughts kettle like hawks — a very different sort of experience. Both are meant to be cherished.

      Linda

  10. I’m like you…I give thanks every day for the opportunity to have a job that allows me not be cooped up in an office and do what I love.

    How in the world did you ever find yourself doing this kind of work? You’ve probably written about it before, but I haven’t read it.

    1. DM,

      I’ve thought about that a time or two. There are more similarities than differences between your carpentry and my varnishing, or your apple picking and vanishing, for that matter.

      How did I begin? Now there’s a strange tale. I did write about it, but years ago. I just glanced at the post, and I think it’s worth posting again. It answers your question a little more fully than just saying, “Oh, it was time for a change.”

      Linda

  11. Those first 6 lines apply to working from home, as well. Yours is a job that frees the mind to think “thinky thoughts” as the current web slang goes. It is a “mindless” job in a different direction as it only requires some attention to what you’re doing. Otherwise, your mind is unconstrained. I expect that’s one reason you like it.

    I love the line “Rippled waves of thought ebb out, flow back;” And that last word picture really captures the freedom of free-flying thought when it is not boxed in by a job that turns one into a mindless drone in a hive of cubicles.

    1. WOL,

      You’re right about the unconstrained mind. On the other hand, different levels of attentiveness are required for different parts of the process.

      When I’m using a heat gun to strip old finish, full attentiveness is important. I have the scars to show for my learning process with that particular tool. In the same way, laying on varnish means blocking out everything else — thoughts, conversation, bird-watching, music.

      More than once I’ve said to someone, “I’ve enjoyed talking with you, but I’m going to start varnishing. You’re free to watch, but don’t expect me to answer questions.” People who don’t understand that sometimes walk off in a huff. People who do understand that sometimes hire me.

      But sanding? I spend more time doing that than anything, and yes, it is a perfect occupation for “thinky thoughts.” (I’d not heard that phrase. It’s a good one.)

      It’s good of you to point out the relevance to working from home, too. Trust you to spot that!

      Linda

    1. Thanks, montucky. And thanks, too, for reminding me again of that wonderful fellow who brought you the logs. However he’d express it, I have a feeling he understands the experience.

      Linda

  12. Your choice of words is once again impeccable. And only in an outdoor office like this could one envision those feathered words circling in search of taut wires on which to land. Just lovely.

    1. Thanks, Susan. And you’re exactly right. Any ceiling, glass or otherwise, would stop those birdies in mid-flight. Just like hawks ride the thermals, maybe our word-birds ride a variety of breeze called the “mentals”.

      Linda

  13. I just love it when you write an etheree! You manage to capture mood, environment and all the feeling in so few lines — and such expressive ones! I fear if my office was outside like yours, I would freeze to death this week. But soon….

    1. Jeanie, dressing for success takes on a wholly different meaning in a boatyard. Let’s just say long underwear becomes more important during certain seasons. Keeping warm is always easier than getting cool, actually.

      I really was happy with this poem. I haven’t gone back to look, but I think I did a better job of creating some flow from one line to the next. That’s one reason I like the etheree. There’s a little room to move around.

      Of course, as you know from your art work, even if practice doesn’t make perfect, it certainly helps us get better!

      Linda

  14. I love it when people write about their work. I love to interview people about their work. I’m going to go think some of those thinky thoughts now.

    1. Gerry,

      Isn’t it nice the way things work out? You like to interview people about their work, and people like to talk about their work.

      Speaking of which, the podcast containing the conversation with Houston firefighter Brad Hawthorn’s up on the web now. You can find it here. It begins in the 8 a.m. hour on 3/26 (at the 13 minute mark), and goes over into the 9 o’clock hour. It was wonderful for a pretty large chunk of Houston to get to hear Hawthorn. I’ve observed that the more competent such people are, the more matter of fact their descriptions.

      That’s worth some thinky thoughts, too.

      Linda

    1. That’s exactly right, Claudia. And not only lined, in the beginning, but with three lines, so we knew how to form big letters and little letters.

      Confession: I still will occasionally find myself spelling out m-i-crooked letter-crooked letter – i – crooked letter – crooked letter – i – p – p -i.” Those teachers may not have realized such things would endure for decades.

      So nice to see you! Hope all’s well, and thanks for nice compliment. Appreciate it.

      Linda

  15. It must be so lovely to be visited by the lovely birds of the sea, during the course of the working day! I will occasionally – with a double helping of ‘rarely’ – see some mallard ducks or a snowy egret investigating the creek that runs below the freeway by work, but that will be it. I must wait until the weekends for our weekly visit to the beach!

    This is a wonderful poem – merging words of the sea with thoughts of life and work at the boatyard. It is full of joy and contentment, as is your writing.

    1. aubrey,

      It’s wonderful to have the birds, the sun, the clouds and the breeze. Sometimes, of course, it’s not at all wonderful to have frozen hands or dripping perspiration, but no one said life was going to be perfect.

      Every season has its delights, of course. There’s a lot of love in the air these days — and it won’t be long until confused young mallard mamas are laying eggs all over creation. Once, I found an egret egg lying in the middle of the dock. They’re a lovely blue-green, far prettier than an Easter egg.

      I love that it communicated joy and contentment to you. There’s a good bit of that in my life these days, and I’m very grateful for that.

      Linda

  16. I very much enjoyed your prow-shaped poem, Linda – and the photo looked extraordinarily like part of the harbour of the small island town where I grew up… I recall people (mostly men, it has to be said, in those days….) engaged in purposeful activity in the freedom of open sea air, old men smoking pipes leaning against a wall chatting, seagulls attempting to raid open fish boxes, boats of many nationalities forever coming and going….you’ve made me feel quite nostalgic!

    1. It’s so true, Anne. Harbours and boatyards are much the same, no matter where you go. They’re quite simple places, really. Boats, water, birds, craftsmen, story-telling, heat or cold — mix them all together, and you have the most delightful environment.

      It just occurred to me – I don’t think I’ve told you about our bonnie Scottish lass who lives in Galveston – the tall ship Elissa. She was built in Aberdeen in 1877, and she is a beauty. I’ve not worked on her, but I’ve sailed on her, and even climbed the rigging. The photos still are around. I only have two — but that took all my courage as it was!

      I’m happier now to work on the boats, and stick with the smaller ones. Tall ship sailing is hard, hard work!

      Linda

  17. This morning I woke up feeling a little anxious, wondering if changing the direction of my life had been the right thing to do. Uncertainty mixed with even the potential for regret. I’m thankful that doesn’t happen to me often.

    I pulled on my boots and went out to my morning chores. The air this morning is thick with fog and mist, so that the trees seem beautifully hazy and almost unreal. Some deer scampered into the woods. That they can do that so silently always amazes me. My walk was peaceful, not because it was quiet, but because it wasn’t–birds singing in anticipation of a sunny day.

    The walk purged my mind of my doubts. At one point I stopped and said, out loud, “What would I trade for this?”

    As I settled in for breakfast I came over to your blog and saw this poem. It is perfect, speaking exactly what I am feeling, with words better than any I could find.

    1. Bill,

      I’ve been trying to remember when I was most anxious about making my own change, and I think it was at about year five. When I began the business, I was so busy learning the trade, finding customers, getting the work done, and trying to turn a profit before the bank account went dry that there wasn’t any time for regret or reconsideration.

      Like you, I wouldn’t trade where I am for anything — at least, in its essence. If someone came along and gave me ten acres and a mule named Guaranteed Income, I’d be out of here in a flash. But that’s not going to happen, and I really am quite content as things are.

      Now and then, when the vicissitudes of the weather get on my nerves, I’m likely to start muttering about going back to a civilized job, like I had before. But I don’t mean it. I’ve got a new role model, too.

      “Be like the fox
      who makes more tracks than necessary,
      some in the wrong direction…”

      Linda

  18. Another lovely etheree, Linda. Between it and your photo choice, I felt sun and salt breeze on my face and heard the shush and slap of water hitting hulls and pilings.

    1. Gué,

      Don’t forget the seagulls. They certainly don’t want to be left out of the mix.

      I do love those sounds. Of course, in my childhood, we just listened to the corn. You already had water and waves. I had to wait a bit.

      If you’re not truly hearing the water yet, I hope you will be before the summer’s over. There’s nothing in the world more calming and peaceful. More than a few times, I’ve thought that wind, birdsong and waves were music enough. Who needs the radio when we have those?

      Linda

      1. I’ll have to ride down to The Battery one day after work, now that the weather has warmed up. I’ll hear water and seagulls there, for sure.

      1. True story: I’m writing from bed, where I think I may be delaying an inevitable hospital visit and possible diagnosis of hip or other fracture, after falling in the shower. I watched the first few seconds of this with a mixture of excruciating pain and longing to be on the water. Fingers crossed that I just have a bad sprain or something! I’ll watch the whole thing when it doesn’t hurt so much. :-)

  19. Love your poems, Linda! As usual this one is beautifully written.

    I could just imagine the images, reflections, and insights that flow from your mind as you work on your boats of which we are the fortunate recipients through your blog:

    “Rippled waves of thought ebb out,
    flow back; the feathered word takes flight
    and circles to the sky, seeking new
    companions, taut wires on which to land.”

    This poem evokes in a me a sense of lightness, of work done peacefully and effortlessly. Must be what you feel when you’re working.

    Thanks for sharing, Linda…

    — Matt

    1. Thanks so much for your comment, Matt. As so often happens, it turned my mind in a different direction. I’m not baking bread or producing honey, and the content of my thought probably is different, but the similarity of my life to the Rule of St. Benedict would be familiar to the good brothers in their abbeys. “Ora et labora” is a good combination, no matter how it’s lived out.

      To be honest, things don’t always go so easily, and there are days filled with frustration. On the other hand, when conditions are right and everything flows, you can see it in the finished product. There’s nothing worse than a cranky coat of varnish!

      Linda

  20. Her’s anothr post that went to spam. I’m still deleting spam so this notice was waaay down in the pile.

    I like the poem and really like the title of this post. The pic showing the wharf and the boats adds so much to the essence of what your work is all about. And, I know that your job is especially hard. I have no idea how you continue on with so much labor involved. ~yvonne

    1. You know, Yvonne, sometimes it amazes me when I think about the fact that I’m still working. It’s a blessing, for sure. It’s not as easy as it was when I started (nearly 24 years ago, now!) but I’m still chugging along. I am trying to take off a bit more weight before the heat of summer comes along. It does make a difference.

      I’m glad you like the poem, and the title, too. I love the title. And it hints at a little joke you’ll see from time to time among the boats. There’s always a boat that’s named “The Office”. That way, the owner’s always justified in telling the person on the phone, “Oh, I can’t. I’m at The Office.”

      Linda

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s