no pictures

Good weekend, no pictures.
Lots of pictures taken but I'm not sure what I want to do with them yet.
We went out on the work boat Friday night.  True and Fiona came with us.  We circumnavigated Indian Island and then went aboard an abandoned schooner for a picnic.  There was a dead finch on deck. 
Fiona got a respirator from Charlie on Saturday and then spent the day doing massive paintings in the back yard.  She worked most of the day.  I did too, but then went back to Rockport Harbor with Charlie thinking we'd take the tin boat across the bay but no.  We went to Beech Hill instead because the tin boat was not to be found.  Cape Cod trip is planned.  And it's very soon.  I'm reading Thoreau's journals now.  Have put Jesmyn Ward aside for my own health. 
Thoreau had tuberculosis and died when he was 44. 
I listened to Walden while I painted in my studio today.  Fiona painted most of the day too.  We had to take a walk to get more paint for her mid-day.  I want the whole two floors of my studio to be set up for painting and book making projects ... but yoga.  I keep feeling like I don't want to teach.  Wonder why?
Oh.  I know why.
Because I still have 45,000 things to learn before I would actually be equipped to teach.
On Tuesday I go to see the surgeon.
I dreamed that I was flying this morning.  I was in another world -- the things I could see and do were not of this world -- but then I became aware of myself and I was back.
I have apple crisp in the oven.
I'll make another one to bring to the cape because Charlie and his parents love apple crisp.
All pink and rosy.  My throat will be fine.