Arte com IA: The Chesapeake stretched out wide in front of a dark little tavern on Town Creek. A maze of docks and piers lay behind it, with small boats moored in private slips bobbing up and down with the gentle waves of the cove. All around there was the call of seabirds and clatter of people readying with ropes, nets, and fishing poles as they readied for a day out on the bay. In the earliest summer I remember, we spent most weekends camping in the car near the marina. Those days blend into each other, filled with the same sights, sounds and scents of this little slice of the Maryland shoreline. When my father pulled the car up along the seawall to park it stayed put until it was time to go home again. My parents then went about setting up everything for our stay right away. It was a buzz of quick activity and we big girls were expected to help Mom set blankets and pillows into a makeshift bed. We sat next to our new baby sister so she didn’t roll off the seat while mom made a little cot for her in the floorboard.. Dad did all the heavy stuff, setting up lawn chairs and pulling the styrofoam cooler, bushel basket and crab nets out of the trunk. putting it all in a shady spot so he could setup his gear. Sometimes he fished with a long, long blue fishing rod and shiny whirring reel, pulling bluefish and skate out of the water with groaning effort and great happy shouts. One this particular day, he was only after blue crabs. He tied long lengths of rope with chicken legs on the end. When he had all he planned to set out, he took the bushel, nets and chicken lines out onto the pier and fixed the other end of each rope to its own pylon. He tossed the chicken in the water, watching it sink into the darkness. He then left everything in his special spot and walked across the road to the air conditioned tavern to wait for the crabs to bite. When he came back out, squinting in the sunlight, he would slowly pull in each crab line, trying not to disturb any crabs that might be quietly eating on the other end. My mother would take the crab net – a metal cage on the end of a long pole – and lower it into the water, sneaking up behind the feasting crab until she had it centered and then quickly brought the net, the crab, and the chicken leg up out of the water into a waiting backet. My oldest sister and I often fished with our little rods and reels and a cup full of earthworms off the end of the dock or along the sea wall, rarely catching anything. Sometimes our mother would take us to swim on the little beach further down. When I was bored with all of that, I had kindergarten workbooks to keep me busy. But, I mostly watched the people around us coming and going, curious about what they were doing and daydreaming about who they were. My sister and I were only allowed inside the bar if we had to go to the bathroom. We had to go with our mom or our dad, or at least have them stand and watch as we crossed over the street and went inside. They were watching when we came out again. Otherwise, we stayed outside or in the car the entire weekend, night and day. One afternoon, I woke from a nap in the car and found myself alone. The windows were down and a rising breeze was blowing itself into the bay. “Mommy?”, I asked outside the car, but there was no answer, so I got out and looked around. I didn’t see anyone I knew. Walking out to my father’s special spot on the pier, I noticed there were no so many people as before. Those that were out seemed to be packing up to leave. But my father wasn’t here, nor my mother or sisters. I was a little angry and nervous. I didn’t know what was going on, but I woke up for a reason and I needed a grown up. I had to pee. I looked across it at the tavern to see if my parents might come out, but the door stayed shut. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't go pee outside… in front of strangers. I couldn't cross the road by myself. I wasn’t allowed to talk to strangers. I realized that I was still wearing my bathing suit. I could go in the water without crossing the road, so I walked down to the little beach at the end of the seawall and waded into the water. It was cold, mucky and rocky all at the same time, but I needed to get in far enough, and the shallow water reached far out away from the shoreline. I waded in up to my belly and let go in relief. Where the water came in from the culvert the ground drops several feet at once. It rushed into the bay in swirls and peaks and poured over my eyes as my feet reached out for the way back and found nothing there.
Criado por KC Tregaryn
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KC Tregaryn
KC Tregaryn
The Chesapeake stretched out wide in front of a dark little tavern on Town Creek. A maze of docks and piers lay behind it, with small boats moored in private slips bobbing up and down with the gentle waves of the cove. All around there was the call of seabirds and clatter of people readying with ropes, nets, and fishing poles as they readied for a day out on the bay. In the earliest summer I remember, we spent most weekends camping in the car near the marina. Those days blend into each other, filled with the same sights, sounds and scents of this little slice of the Maryland shoreline. When my father pulled the car up along the seawall to park it stayed put until it was time to go home again. My parents then went about setting up everything for our stay right away. It was a buzz of quick activity and we big girls were expected to help Mom set blankets and pillows into a makeshift bed. We sat next to our new baby sister so she didn’t roll off the seat while mom made a little cot for her in the floorboard.. Dad did all the heavy stuff, setting up lawn chairs and pulling the styrofoam cooler, bushel basket and crab nets out of the trunk. putting it all in a shady spot so he could setup his gear. Sometimes he fished with a long, long blue fishing rod and shiny whirring reel, pulling bluefish and skate out of the water with groaning effort and great happy shouts. One this particular day, he was only after blue crabs. He tied long lengths of rope with chicken legs on the end. When he had all he planned to set out, he took the bushel, nets and chicken lines out onto the pier and fixed the other end of each rope to its own pylon. He tossed the chicken in the water, watching it sink into the darkness. He then left everything in his special spot and walked across the road to the air conditioned tavern to wait for the crabs to bite. When he came back out, squinting in the sunlight, he would slowly pull in each crab line, trying not to disturb any crabs that might be quietly eating on the other end. My mother would take the crab net – a metal cage on the end of a long pole – and lower it into the water, sneaking up behind the feasting crab until she had it centered and then quickly brought the net, the crab, and the chicken leg up out of the water into a waiting backet. My oldest sister and I often fished with our little rods and reels and a cup full of earthworms off the end of the dock or along the sea wall, rarely catching anything. Sometimes our mother would take us to swim on the little beach further down. When I was bored with all of that, I had kindergarten workbooks to keep me busy. But, I mostly watched the people around us coming and going, curious about what they were doing and daydreaming about who they were. My sister and I were only allowed inside the bar if we had to go to the bathroom. We had to go with our mom or our dad, or at least have them stand and watch as we crossed over the street and went inside. They were watching when we came out again. Otherwise, we stayed outside or in the car the entire weekend, night and day. One afternoon, I woke from a nap in the car and found myself alone. The windows were down and a rising breeze was blowing itself into the bay. “Mommy?”, I asked outside the car, but there was no answer, so I got out and looked around. I didn’t see anyone I knew. Walking out to my father’s special spot on the pier, I noticed there were no so many people as before. Those that were out seemed to be packing up to leave. But my father wasn’t here, nor my mother or sisters. I was a little angry and nervous. I didn’t know what was going on, but I woke up for a reason and I needed a grown up. I had to pee. I looked across it at the tavern to see if my parents might come out, but the door stayed shut. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't go pee outside… in front of strangers. I couldn't cross the road by myself. I wasn’t allowed to talk to strangers. I realized that I was still wearing my bathing suit. I could go in the water without crossing the road, so I walked down to the little beach at the end of the seawall and waded into the water. It was cold, mucky and rocky all at the same time, but I needed to get in far enough, and the shallow water reached far out away from the shoreline. I waded in up to my belly and let go in relief. Where the water came in from the culvert the ground drops several feet at once. It rushed into the bay in swirls and peaks and poured over my eyes as my feet reached out for the way back and found nothing there.
about 1 year ago