It seems to take no time at all to get home from Door Co. Maybe because it's downhill? It was hard for us to leave our dream world without jobs or responsibilities up there on the peninsula and reenter the real world, but I'm pretty proud that I brought home a little money. Not a lot, but a little. I also brought yarn and patterns, a split of red wine (compliments of the motel), and a few beads. Well, not beads in the "round and clear" sense of the word, more beads in the "chunks of coral with a hole drilled in them, piece of bone with a hole, and a little fossil nautilus with a hole" sense of the word. Now I just have to figure out what to do with them.
February 24--Oltos, Terracotta Psykter (vase for cooling wine). Aurora plunged into the sea swimming out on the rays of the just-risen sun as they played on the bone white sand. She giggled to see the purple tube sponges with their brittle star tenants swaying in the gentle surge. The ungainly lobsters lumbered back into their hiding places to wait out the daylight. The day shift of groupers and grunts rose out of their coral beds to begin foraging in the algae patches tended by the sergeant majors who guard their patches of purple eggs. Aurora watched each morning to see the octopus come back from her night of hunting. Her lair in the reef was marked by a row of green glass bottles that the octopus rearranged every day in a new order.
There's no place like home. Gotta go find my ruby slippers.