Homesite for some deserving creature, excavated by a pileated woodpecker.

The Susie Pea, painted today by Sue to a lovely, antifouling battleship gray. (Second coat coming.) This has proved to be a wonderfully capable and useful boat, even though taken (for free) from the burn pile at Roger's farm, south of Whitewater.

(apologies to W. Somerset Maugham for stealing his title)

After a short day of work, and a lively sail in the Windrider, we did lift a glass in honor of threescore and ten (not quite fourscore and seven, but where there’s life, there’s hope), and then, after lovely phone calls and video chats with the younger generations, a fine home-made carrot cake.

Warm day, mixed with cold periods (such as when sailing), and with the promise of rain, although Pax has not yet started acting nervous, so maybe not The midges are out, and a walk along the beach is loud, like a walk among the weed-whackers. Black flies are tapering off, but only to be replaced by mosquitoes. And we are not looking forward to the deer-flies.

But now, time to unfold the TV from the wall, dial in Netflix, and watch the last episode of the dark murder mystery Broadchurch. (Even here in the north woods we like the occasional diversion.) And then on to looking forward to something similar to today for fourscore and seven.