Early clouds rapidly moving north, rumbles of thunder from far away. Shrimpers done for the night and moving past our wide, screen porch as we sit having a stuffed egg and toasted slices of a wheat bun bought at Tyndall yesterday on our way over. For some reason, though was working fine earlier, the hotel’s internet has gone off non-operational this morning. It is a sign of the age that this nuisance bothers me. Maybe I need to return to pre-WWW? Or now go non-internet like friends we had martinis with last evening, who take pride in the independence of not being connected? Naanh, I'll use my phone for a personal hotspot for a moment. Supper with them, after martinis, at an uncrowded restaurant, fried oysters, but the best fried mullet we’ve had in years, properly the whole mullet filleted, backbone with tail separate, a munching delicacy including the crispy tail. And also the crispy fried fish skin. Thankfully, Linda won’t eat fish skin, so I had the crispy sk

First order of business this morning, an occasional task, clear dozens of extraneous icons from laptop desktop. Have not yet opened email, though yesterday I subscribed (except for AAA, who remind me every year, all my subscriptions are free because general web practice is to get your subscription and credit card and, knowing you'll forget it and not notice, automatically renew every year unto the ages of ages) lost antecedent again, subscribed to a poem a day and looking forward to finding out whether it's real or doggerel. This came about from looking at Emily Dickinson online. I like some of Dickinson, overall whose poetry reveals an obsession with death. Shy, withdrawing Emily would never have worn a bikini to the beach. More weather watching last evening as a dark black cloud moved over StAndrewsBay from the east, interesting with ongoing rumbles of thunder as it approached, little lightning except a couple of startling streaks. As from early summer I no longer appre

Remember, I keep reminding myself, this blog and its daily blogposts are for self, my own musing or steaming or drifting bored off into dozeland; for self entertainment, not, as other ministers' blogs are, for public enlightenment, spiritual inspiration, or any other external purpose whatsoever.  The lightning this morning was extraordinary as watched from 7H porch before sunrise. Gone now, weather radar showed it in small clouds not far off the Gulf coast here. With other conveniences, 7H is far better for watching weather evolve than the Old Place beneath and behind the trees. And, I suppose, 7H porch is superior MLP to the old hurricane battered cedar, mainly because ants no longer crawl all over me: it required intensity of focus to muse and grieve at MLP while being explored by ants. These two pictures are the same, different frames as lightning lit up first its cloud and then, split second, the earth beneath it. The phone camera is interesting to explo

Disappointment at 6:19 this morning as Lauritzen's vessel Graig Rotterdam 591x100 passes 7H porch in the moonlight, arriving to load wood pellets for Tyne.  She's on schedule to depart Saturday, which I'll miss, being in Apalachicola. So, no good clear shots of her. Monday afternoon on 7H porch, watching that deeply rumbling cloud move slowly over and past while I nibble four fresh, rich and crispy Ritz crackers and sip a post-nap mug of tea with, as almost never done, a splash of half and a teaspoon of sugar,  reminds me again of our conversation when my sister told me for the first time, that she and I, well Gina put herself and Walt in one place and me alone in another, grew up in different families, were raised by completely different mothers. Why my stir of memory? Because mama taught me my first cup of tea, in a teacup with saucer, crushed tea leaves scooped into an open two-piece spoon-shaped container full of holes that then clipped together l

My after church drive yesterday, thank you, Bill, a car of my dreams. Smooth. Ask the man who owns one. Early morning, car service, black shirt, collar, perhaps a hospital call after. Lovely end-of- August morning hoping soon for fall. Even though summer isn't over until 2/3rds of the way through next month, the very word September calls up longings for the cool and colorful autumns of memory, memories. Fall 1957, Rhode Island when the world was new. Others before and after. Extended, busy but happy week looms, visit with friends, wedding, supply next Sunday as football season opens promising for some doubtful for many. Go Gators. Go Blue. Don't roll Tide. Don't chop Seminoles. Time marches on and in it McCain v & RC uproar (scroll), re which nothing substantive will come. As clergy, I see what is happening, absolute confidence of the confessional, penance and absolution with "go, and sin no more," and all is "under the stole," but RC fails

G2 Ocean's Blu Tide 585x92 passing 7H at 6:30 last evening. She's due to depart Monday.  Saturday, a day at 7H. Up at four o'clock with black and dark. Linda went to the annual English Tea and Fashion Show at Holy Nativity, a fundraising event for money to be given to various local charities, and had a delightful time. For my worthless part, it was a rest day, my Sabbath, a morning nap and pour over the scripture for Sunday morning, not homiletic but sort of prep for Sunday School. The bishop has a project involving the collects, haven't looked at that yet, but many Sunday mornings we go over the Collect for Purity and the Collect for the Day, discern the prayer's theology. Once in a while I tell them about the collect, who wrote it, how old it is, some of these prayers date back well more than a thousand years. And we have some that are new, 20th century. Collect for tomorrow, Proper 16 Year B:  Grant, O merciful God, that your Church, being gathered toge

The city that turned Germans into 'Huns' marks 100 years since it was set ablaze Louvain, the Belgian city where First World War atrocities gave Britain a propaganda gift, will mark centenary with music By  Bruno Waterfield , Leuven 7:30AM BST 25 Aug 2014 It was the city that confirmed what British propagandists wanted the world to believe: that the German army that had invaded Belgium in August 1914 was a barbaric fighting machine that showed no respect for any population that stood in its way.  Exactly 100 years after the Kaiser’s troops embarked on the sacking and burning of Louvain, not long after the start of the First World War, the Belgian town will mark today’s solemn anniversary with a concert that will include Mozart’s Requiem. A newly composed oratorio by Piet Swaerts, a Flemish composer, will be played by the Flanders Symphony Orchestra conducted by David Angus, a Briton.  The concert, which has sold out, will be acc

The lesser light by night gets all the attention these days, moving toward full, seemed ever so slightly not quite so last evening there with StAndrewsBay and navigation lights spread out, moon reflecting,  downtown Panama City to the left, Tyndall lights in the background including the circulating white green white green white light atop the water tower on Highway 98 just beyond the Main Gate. Then this morning looking west, seeming fully full, preparing to set by sliding into the Gulf of Mexico. The photos are terrible but the views are perfect, the way it is. At some point the phone camera will be full and time to go through and delete 90% of. Hurricane now TS Lane flooding and threatening Hawaiian Islands, about which I know nothing beyond my 1966 visit there for several days, beautiful places and breakfast fruit; interesting memories but not very. Would I live there, no, I like a big piece of land to stand on, a continent for example, even if here on the edge where loo

When I went out on 7H porch just after four o'clock, no planets visible, but the moon was hanging in the west, just over Thomas Drive, orange and ominous; a bit ominous, and I'd always thought the moon was my friend. My camera phone was out of sight so no picture, I guess you had to be there.   Well, I guess you had to be there Yeah, you really had to be there Some things you just can't explain It's just not the same I guess you had to be there And thank you, Lorrie Morgan, 25 years ago, for some reason I associate that song with the first time I heard it, driving past the state capitol in Tallahassee on my way home to Apalachicola after taking Nicholas home. I was what? 58, with five more years to be at Trinity Church. And Nicholas was about to move to Michigan. Life keeps going, but, counter to Hank Williams, Jr., it don't git tedious. Where was I fifty years ago - - late summer 1968, starting Naval War College, our second tour in Newport, Rhode Island. Would

A lot, I miss a lot, about 99% of what goes on in fact, but it's the peace, not joy just a bit more peace, that comes with not watching the news unless there's a hurricane in the Atlantic or Gulf. So, frankly, Urban Meyer, the coach I love to hate and what would I do without him, I'm still too far in the past fully to understand what Zach Smith and his wife has to do with Ohio State football. But if it has to be, at least they could have suspended Meyer for the Michigan game. He's pulling down the big bucks, but if I were Meyer I'd resign and go coach high school football somewhere. Zach Smith's a peeoess but Meyer's affection for and loyalty to Zach's grandfather, that I can understand. Looking east after sunset last evening, Moon over Mars. Thursday morning not quite seven o'clock and StAndrewsBay is flat and calm, hear what is either a loud boat or an airplane, not yet in sight, and there's a sailboat across over close to Shell "Is

Open-faced sandwich for breakfast: small can of red salmon mixed with a little mayo, spread on two slices extra thin bread, one topped with thick slice onion, other a bit of extra-sharp cheddar grated on top, a salmon melt but grated not melted. Large mug coffee with ice cubes. On 7H porch, 80°F 82% with clouds to the south of me, but Channel 13 weather has sunshine for today. This was billed as a "cold front," but I don't feel cold. From my childhood I remember canned tuna more than canned salmon, sitting at the kitchen table watching mama make casserole or salad, and her picking out all the crunchy bones and giving them to me to eat. I loved the tuna or salmon casserole mama made, it may have had noodles and cheese. Those probably were days of the Depression. From yesterday, Joe said he liked that, my first Lincoln, but I don't remember whether he ever drove it or used it for dates. I do remember being in WashDC with it. But for some reason I don't recal