A cold wind blew out of the north-northwest. The thermometer never topped 60 during the days, and it plunged into the 30s at night. But the sky was blue, and at times the sun was warm. (This, mind you, comes from a Texan who left 90 degree days in brief exchange for the wind and a fire burning in the wood stove all day long.)
It was spring — time to pull the sections of dock off the beach where we left them last fall and hook them together in anticipation of still distant summertime celebrations.
These were my compatriots.
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And this was the fruit of our labors.
