Ghost Bay Musings


This is Ghost Bay on a rainy, misty, chilly, early morning in mid-July.  That’s me in my yellow Pungo and Steve’s classic Grundens rain hat. Steve actually never wore the hat; I wrestled it away from him. Actually, it wasn’t much of a wrestle because he was going to give the hat to the Salvation Army. I used to have a Madame Alexander Wendykins doll that wore a hat just like this.  With earflaps, an adjustable chin strap and a welded water ditch on the front brim that leads water away.  Wendykins (I don’t know why they called her that either) had a matching raincoat instead of a matching kayak. Anyway, this is Ghost Bay.  This is where I want my cremains quietly spread when the time for that sort of thing comes, even though it’s a no wake zone.  The bottom is kind of mucky already, though the water is clear, so I don’t think I will do any damage.  And tossing a bit of me on the shore among the ferns and wildflowers would be OK too.