The Tent No More

For the past two years I have been sheltered in a tent in a Ditch Plains backyard. RW provided an idyllic weekend existence of a beach bum. Falling asleep to the sound of waves. Waking to bird song. Sitting by the fire. Watching the smoke furl into tge sky. The stars. Like a member of the gang in Steinbeck's CANNERY ROW. This weekend's gusts of wind tore apart the tent. 50-70 mph. oh sadness The tent no more, but it had a good run. And I enjoyed it much lying. Thanks RW