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March 22, 2001

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Second night in a row we went to Golden Gardens to watch the
sun drop like a rock behind the curtain of mountains that is the
Olympic Peninsula. A celebration of sorts: Bruce back from Canada
fishing a river lined by 200-foot trees, Connie back from L.A. where
the breasts are bountiful and the air is warm. Our luck started with
found pallets, which burned bright but fast. We were out of wood,
but before the fire could die altogether a bearded carpenter named
Darcy asked if we knew where he could burn his truckload of scraps.
We piled it high and the flames illuminated faces of passersby 30
yards away. We stood & smiled. Sometimes all you have to do is wait.