Spring Break on my Island

No television.  No internet connection.  Didn’t even open the computer until the last day.

Instead, there were hyacinths backed by blue sky.

There were harbor lights at night.

and crumbling ruins by day.

Also enjoyed but not photographed: a Stephen King style cemetery complete with inverted graves, drinks in the original town father’s house overlooking the harbor, a terribly played game of scrabble, much handwriting of new novel ideas, and 10 blissful minutes in a eucalyptus scented steam-room.

It’s an unassuming little cabin

but it’s come a long way from the original worker’s camp.

Absent were the editor and the worrier, who apparently missed the boat that we caught, with only seconds to spare.  In fact, I think I saw them stamping their feet on the dock as they untied the ropes behind us.  Makes me think that I might want to stay on an island where some genius thought to train an apple tree to an arbor so that spring could be welcomed looking like this.


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