The wind blows and blows and blows, and it’s not just Arthur, but I don’t know what it is.  The water ripples and glistens, the days stay cool enough to mow the lawn  with only one beer break, and the bugs are thwarted, but for a lesser child of the wind, sitting or talking outdoors is daunting.  I, however, am a North Dakotan, born and raised in Wahpeton, 50 miles south of Fargo which typically out-blows Chicago for the title of windiest city.  I’ll bet the sailors love the wind and though more sailboats are sailing (apparently) and mooring in the harbor, they are moored at Tenants Harbor Boat Yard,  behind the trees to the left and just out of view of the webcam.


St. George Sailing School has started across the harbor.  (Webcam alert.) Yesterday they practiced tipping over, then getting back in the boat.  Today they had fun puffing the sails in the wind.  Younger kids and newer sailors take to the water in the morning, so coffee on the porch means sometimes overseeing the counselor in the dinghy motoring out to draw the fearless newbie back in the fold.  No kayakers today, but two canoes with two people each added to the bustle of high summer in the harbor.


Now to the books:  Thanks to sailor-browsers who suggested I get 1) Geoffrey Wolff’;s The Hard Way Around: the Passages of Joshua Slocum to  keep the autobiographer honest  in his account, Sailing Alone Around the World, which RB also has, and 2) William Bligh and Edward Christian’s The Bounty Mutiny, which has the relevant texts and documents from the Bounty and complements Caroline Alexander’s The Bounty: The True Story of the Mutiny on the Bounty, which RB also has.

The search for attractive new (to Rosele3dge Books) series continues.  Peter Temple’s Jack Irish is my favorite (and the only one read, so far) new series of the summer.  This is dialogue to sing with, even if the Australian street talk takes a minute, and people to have in your life.  RB is also trying Susan MacNeal’s Maggie Hope, a WWII spy and cryptographer of BBC-TV’s Foyle’s War and  Bletchley Girls ilk.  Martin Walker’s Bruno, Chief of Police is a novel of the French countryside written by someone who has spent part of each year there these last thirty-some years.  An interesting place seen from an interesting perspective, I thought.

And trying to remain timely with earlier winners, RB has Elly Griffith’s Ruth Galloway in her latest paperback, A Dying Fall, but will have to wait until next summer for newest paperback adventures of Harry Dolan’s David Loogan, Julia Spencer-Fleming’s Clare Ferguson and Russ Van Alstyne, Cara Black’s Aimee Leduc, and Diana Gabaldon’s  Claire Randall and Jamie Fraser.


Bobby, nifty neighbor down the road, brought by the Produce Lady’s latest miracle:  surely the world’s best-ever blueberry pie.  It has a mountain of uncooked blueberries held sort-of together with something.  Pam and I yummed through an immediate piece.  Then Scott came over to help fix a recliner that quit reclining, saw the pie, bemoaned the need for high bush blueberries from New Jersey (native berries are low-bush, small, wild, the best in the world and not in yet), then wolfed down a giant piece, yumming under his breath.  Bobby became hero of the day and the Produce Lady remains a treasure.  And we still have half a pie.

See what you are missing?



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