Anchored in God

Each year, I spend a week or two visiting friends on an island off the coast of Massachusetts. This winter, the islanders needed icebrakers to help the ferry boats reach the mainland. They were snowed in on several occasions. And fog often shut down the normally busy little airport.

But the islanders are a hardy breed—with a sense of humor that gets them through most storms. On the deck outside the front door of my friends' beach house, they have a rock dangling from a frayed rope, with a guide for city dwellers like me on a slate beside the rock.

Stone wet: rain.
Shadow on ground: sunny.
White on top: snow.
Can't see stone: foggy.
Swinging stone: windy.
Stone jumping up and down: hurricane.

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March 15, 2004
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