I like to watch the white ibis play in the surf. These three seem to hang together in the morning by the pier and play in the waves and fish in the sand. House nicely filled with guests, two daughters and a boyfriend and I get out early, tired, on my own, after getting some work done. It’s later than usual and very very sunny. I will need to skip my Monday poetry tonight. We take a bike ride over the bridge into Bradenton, me and the three younger ones, in the hot sun, to get smoothies. In the late afternoon, I let my daughters take a walk up to Beer Can Island without me; I have used up my legs pretty well today, all weekend, really, and I am happy to have a few quiet moments with Frank. Later, the girls tell of their adventure at the lagoon: a young man, maybe 18, hanging with some girlfriends, threw a liquor bottle into the lagoon while they were watching the fish jump. The youngest told him he couldn’t do that, and he said it was too late, the bottle was in the lagoon and he wasn’t going after it. She insisted, he refused. So she finally jumped into the lagoon, which can be a bit icky, and grabbed the bottle and brought it back to shore. Finally, in front of his girlfriends, he apologized and promised that he had learned a lesson. Indeed.

Apparently, this is a popular drinking spot. Her older sister and I each carried a case of empty beer bottles one morning up the beach until we spotted a recycling truck that was willing to take them off our hands. Then there was sunset and I felt a blaze of gratitude for this fine day with my girls.