The day following the feast was sunny and mild, inviting of a long wander. Following lunch in a sunny local, we embarked on a meandering walk that included many stops along the way in a handful of neighborhoods.
Eventually we found ourselves again at the harbor, staring out at moon-glittered water in the early dark. We breathed in the salt smell of that black and brackish channel where the sea and river meet; entrance and exit of the city where boats are welcomed by la dame verte.
And the steaming bird, fresh from the oven, rested on the sideboard, waiting to be carved for the feast of giving thanks.
On a Friday night in Red Hook, a delightful reunion of friends over a swell dinner and lots of singing. (I don’t sing at karaoke, but I sure love listening and drawing.)
Day twenty-three: A paper box of safety matches could always be found by the stove.
A spool of thread, attended by a stray button, awaited the mending at hand.
Day sixteen: The afternoon warmed unexpectedly— unseasonably. He’d removed his accustomed scarf on account of the change; left it coiled like a tie or a snake on the picnic table in the dooryard. There, it warmed in the sun.
See all of my #Inktober drawings @edaggarart or elizabethdaggar.com
Day fourteen: A coconut pirate was among the nautical tchotchkes and geegaws decorating the cozy kitchen.