Pete helped Fred cast off the bow line and watched as he headed out of the mouth of the river and around the point. The rain started in earnest as Pete walked back up the path and by the time he got to the shed, enough water had accumulated in the bucket so he had to dump it out before storing it. The plants need the rain, he thought to himself.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
No fish (my baby's away across the atlantic)
He swung his legs over the side of a mattress with no sheets on it. The sky was starting to turn grey. He reached for the phone on the wooden box that served as a bedside table and dialed a number. he dressed while he talked "okay, 25 minutes." He made a pot of coffee and poured it into his thermos while scanning the headlines on the day's paper. He glanced at his watch and headed out the back door of the house. He stopped at the shed on his way to pick up both the big, high test rod and his smaller pogie snagger. They were both collapsed and stuck out the top of the orange 5 gallon Bucket. He Held the bucket by the handle and walked down the overgrown path that separated two plots of land. By the time he got down to the water, Fred was already waiting at the dock with the engine idling. "Pete, Look at the clouds to the north." They were black and deep and moving in their direction. Pete sipped his coffee and looked for a minute. "I just saw lightning in there, you'd better head back." Fred nodded "Meet at Norman's for breakfast?" "Sure."
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