Debris is floating down the river again. Greg’s account follows:
I came home early today to deal with the recalcitrant log. It had floated free of the end of the dock by the time I arrived home at 1230, but had only moved to a position between the dock and KJ’s bow. I had to muscle it around the front of the bow, as its bottom end is dragging pretty good in the mud. Once it was on the outboard side of the boat, I realized it wasn’t going to float free on its own; it was too waterlogged. Barry was on the dock so I gave him a quick brief-he didn’t know it had done any damage and I’m still not convinced he’s aware-and he decided to tie it to the dock between KJ and the Carver, and await a faster current to set it free. I then went to nap because the whole thing had given me a headache. When I got up a few hours later the log hand broken one bond and was slowly scraping up the side of the dock at one end, with the other end firmly planted in the mud bottom. Thinking we might have a recurrence of yesterday’s ski jump impression by the dock (although this would have been more like a monster mogul), I cut it free, tied the remaining rope on as a tag line and drug it outboard of KJ once again hoping it would drift free. It made it under the sailboat against Barry’s place and was headed for the lobster boat when I intercepted it. I was able to drag it around the lobster boat and watched it go under, losing complete sight of it, just six feet from the bow. Hopefully it will head downstream and become lodged somewhere more permanently with the evening’s low tide, so as not to present any more problems for us here. Cross your fingers. Barry mentioned that this had been a light year for debris and that normally there was quite a bit more to deal with…
But no, today I managed to take it to another level. I’m blaming it on the hormones, that’s all I’m saying. Went out to the chicken coop, grabbed a few eggs (no, I’m not explaining the whole story of where the chicken coop came from ~ try to stay focused here, OK?), brought them inside, washed ’em up, stuck ’em in a small pan of water (that’s a key point ~ don’t miss it), and went off to argue with the wood stove. 45 minutes later, there are popping noises coming from the kitchen and I still don’t have a fire going anyway.
Off to investigate, only to discover that the water has completely boiled away, the eggs have exploded, and the charred shells are encrusted to the bottom of the pan. Yay, me! Swimming upstream against a hard current today, I am.