Follow the Stars Home
“The dark trees were tall, and they grew right down to the rocky shore. In this part of Maine there was no gradual dropoff, no shallow sandy beach. Just deep water, steep rocks, and more lobsters than Tim McIntosh could catch. The Aphrodite glided so close to shore, Tim could hear moose munching on laurel leaves.He pulled a pot, chucked twelve big lobsters into the basket, re-baited the pot, and threw it back in. On to the next pot, and the next. His buoys were red and white. Keeping the colors ...straight took concentration. Tim was working his way north, signing on to work with different lobster companies along the way, each with their own colors. He caught lobsters, he got paid, he moved on.The life of a nomadic lobsterman suited Tim fine. Moving kept him just off balance enough to keep from dwelling on his past. Introspection was a curse. Tim chose to look outward, not in: at the granite cliffs, the blue sky, the sparkling sea, a pod of pilot whales, a lone eagle flying in slow circles.MoreLess
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