Spring is in the air, which means coyotes are climbing onto the roofs of sheds like hungry goats, trying to mate with the neighborhood dogs.
Everyone is spring cleaning, and we are getting rid of our bed frames and pottery. People keep taking pictures of mirrors that they’re giving away, and it takes me a long time to figure what I’m looking at. Are people giving away their lawns? One boot, their left pant leg and their camera? Then I realize I’m looking at a picture of a mirror. However, if anyone is giving away a lawn or a boot, I could always use more of those.
However, when we try to sell eggs online, the algorithm thinks we’re engaged in black market animal trading. We have to get around it by saying things like, “ovoid cloacal product available in exchange for five standard units of currency.”
With spring comes the equinox, and where better to see it than the upper field at Point Robinson, where there’s a sculpture called Sunrise by Joe Wheeler. Rumor has it that it catches the sunlight at sunrise on the solstice. I have not verified this, as the sun rises around 6:30 in the morning on the equinox, and no way am I going to be out of my house that early, let alone willing to look at the sun without begrudging it.
It’s also said that the sculpture used to perfectly frame Mount Rainier until the surrounding alders grew too tall.
Thriftway had a special bread called Bill’s Bread that showed up once a week, but hasn’t been there since Bill retired. However, there’s a bread subscription service you can sign up for to get a fresh loaf of bread baked on Maury Island.
Have you noticed that everything involves a subscription service these days? It started with gyms and Netflix, then every former cable channel became its own subscription. Soon you could buy toothbrushes and pillows by subscription. You can get clothing subscription services, vitamins, houseplants, underwear, towels, pickles, shaving cream, and, I am not making this up, curated Scandinavian bric-a-brac.
If someone creates a chicken subscriptions service, where you get a hen from a new breed once a month, I would sign up. Until then, I will continue to get my pickles and houseplants the traditional way – by picking them up off the porches of people who are giving them away online.
Someone accidentally bought five gallons of coconut butter and is trying to give it away. So far people have volunteered to come by with mason jars to take a little home with them. Perhaps we should all go in on a subscription to coconut butter.
And speaking of accidents, Someone got their car stuck in the brambles and was looking for a winch. Except they spelled it wench, so as you can imagine, we went bananas in the comments. Someone went so far as to write a poem. I wonder if anyone called Engels?
Another sailboat has sunk near Kingsbury. Luckily it sank near a port, which I hear is a great place to find wenches.
Author: Anna Shomsky
I'm a former teacher and a data engineer living on Vashon Island. My writing has appeared in Five on the Fifth, Women on Writing and on the Post-Culture Podcast. I wrote and produced the radio show Whispers of Vashon for 101.9 KVSH. I’ve had short stories published in the anthologies Island Stories and Chicken Scratchings, as well as through the Open Space Literary Project.
