Flotsam

I love living on the river. I suppose someday I may not be living on the river, but elsewhere, and I'm sure I'll look back at everything connected with this time as somewhat magical and romantic. I even like watching what the currents bring in. In some seasons, it's not unusual to have logs and grass wash into our bay. By "bay," I mean the tiny bay created by the fact that our building doesn't protrude as far into the water as the ones on each side. The pilots' building has screening under it to keep out the logs and the bigger junk. At the moment, ours does not. Sometimes the logs get in there and thump for awhile in any waves caused by wind or passing ships and boats. Usually they wash out on their own, but sometimes they have to be cut up or hauled out. It's hard to tell the scale here, but these are logs, not little sticks.