If ever an inanimate object needed saving, this skiff is it. Made with care, used lovingly, abruptly abandoned by bad health in the eternal hope that health would be restored and hence the boat. I feel my wallet opening, not so much as my heart, but enough to make the owner's dream come true.
Jim - without your wallet you have saved this skiff. your writings have the potential to pass through time - that the owner of the skiff left it there is a gift that you have, with your writing, accepted and responded to in an honoring way.
that said, i understand the pull to "rescue" the boat. we can not rescue everything that needs rescuing - so... 2 things:
- do rescue those things that pull you to that effort when you have the ability to do so...
and
- do continue to honor all of the 10,000 things that need our rescuaing help - even those we know we can not rescue - with your writings.
cool on your inspiration and on the fruition that it brought about - that skiff will remain with me for a long time.
Thanks, Wrick. I think seeing through the old paint had a great deal to do with my excitement. This boat was a labor of love and it lurked beneath a coat of peeling white paint. I haven't found out why that paint job happened, but I'm working on it.
Thanks Carol, the saw horse is okay.
. . . and a thing of beauty, Moya. The boat had been painted at a later date. Originally, the hand worked Sitka Spruce had been spar varnished so the wood grain showed like a fine piece of furniture.
Wow, again and again you hold the riddle tightly until the last line. I like to read your poems backwards so I am not tricked. Then, after having coyotied my way arround your snare, I read it from the start again and tell myself, "I knew that." Then I read it one last time, just because I want to feel what your work always makes me feel, like I want to be in those places you describe and never leave.
Douglas--Thank you very much for that. I think all writers live for those rare moments when someone is moved by their words. In this case, that little old lapstrake skiff gets the credit. It reached out and spoke volumes. Of course the owner/builder's widow spoke to me the whole time I took it in. You talk about artistry! From the classical design (she thinks she has her husband's plans somewhere!) to the painstaking construction and finishing work that peer through the peeling paint. I believe that is the largest mystery here. Why would he let his little gem be obscured like that? I didn't ask the question, lousy interviewer that I am, but when the time is right . . . if the time is right, I will.
It will be, Liz, when the whole story is told. I'm sure glad you liked this--especially since the skiff has no real wings (the sail notwithstanding)! Thank you.
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Comments: 15
Thank you, everyone.
that said, i understand the pull to "rescue" the boat. we can not rescue everything that needs rescuing - so... 2 things:
- do rescue those things that pull you to that effort when you have the ability to do so...
and
- do continue to honor all of the 10,000 things that need our rescuaing help - even those we know we can not rescue - with your writings.
cool on your inspiration and on the fruition that it brought about - that skiff will remain with me for a long time.
Thanks Carol, the saw horse is okay.
. . . and a thing of beauty, Moya. The boat had been painted at a later date. Originally, the hand worked Sitka Spruce had been spar varnished so the wood grain showed like a fine piece of furniture.
Once again, thank you, Douglas.