Thursday, February 7, 2013

Postscript/Poem

Dreamers Drift

Life stream in river form
rushs by.
Flood threatens to wash over us.  
Whirlpools circle
trying to suck us down.

Through a curtain of willows,
I find the shantyboat resting in a peaceful pool.
I know this place,
so I explore unhindered in the johnboat
where the current is refreshing.

Venturing upstream,
I stop, rest, then set the boat free
to float home again.
The universe is fluid and I reach in a dream
scavenging precious drift...
the Hubbard legacy.

Salvaged treasure,
retrieved for my own carving-
this story.

NSL





It later occurred to me that my interest in the lifestyle of the Hubbards was not so surprising after all.  Even though I was born and raised in Chicago proper, my mother (pictured above) was an artistic woman who also loved nature.  We often camped at J.W.Wells St. Park in upper Michigan.  I grew up on the sand dunes of the Great Lakes, as did Anna Hubbard, and I still feel some of the grit between my teeth.  

When I discovered this old photo of mother fishing there on the Cedar river, I was amazed to see this houseboat.  It's a northern version of a wooden houseboat or shantyboat, and it appears well crafted with interesting slightly bowed walls. I like to believe my interest in shantyboats started on this day. 

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