Goodbye, Byron (...for a little while) - May 7, 2012

The weather channel said the full moon was passing closer to the Earth than any point in the last eighteen years. They predicted huge tides, and by the sea, from the lighthouse, the full moon is always spectacular. With my sojourn to Maryland for a friend's wedding festivities and a visit with family and friends planned, it was to be my last full moon in Byron for a while. The skies were clear, and I wasn't going to miss it.

I was also sleepy.

No problem, it was six pm, I'd take a nap then do the hike.

I woke up at midnight, and thought, screw it.

I woke up again at four am, well rested, and thought, YES! I still have time before work! So I grabbed an apple, took a hot shower, and dressed in many layers.

 The hike was beautiful.

I got to work at quarter to seven. My boss arrived with an an amazing banana bread he'd made with bananas fresh from the trees, the slices panfried in butter and still piping hot. Ohmygod, yum.

And then, step by step, I got to make the dough. I was over the moon. I've been itching to make dough, to delve into the intricate art of this morning ritual which is such a deeply basic expression of civilization, of humans choosing to live together in community, a centuries old tradition of bakers waking early to work with flour and water and salt and oil to feed the town around them.

We worked for a while, finished setting up, and then he cooked breakfast, a spectacular affair with eggs and herbs and onions and sausages. God I love working in a kitchen.

I ended the day feeling misty, writing letters on the beach, listening to the drummers who gather nightly at dusk and play through the sunset. It was only then that I realized I know one of the drummers; I've been working next door to her for months.

It's such a small place, and still there is beauty to be found anew every day, if you have a will to look and eyes to see.