The Phoenix Rises

Last summer I went to a potter's reunion at Gerry Williams' house in Dunbarton. I helped with a boat launching at night. We made little paper boats, wrote our hopes on them and launched them into the pond.

Dick, my husband, was in charge of the Phoenix bird puppet. It was on a tall stick with metallic streamers coming down. He was supposed to run up and down the river bank while we put the boats in the water. I had to shine a flashlight on him as he moved the bird around.

When it was over the Phoenix had returned. Fortunately there were no mosquitoes. Unfortunately there was poison ivy.