Pete’s Peat House

Frost Warnings here in Pennsylvania.
Most of May.
Strawberries covered each night.
A wicked cold in the head.
Thunder boomer. Horses out of their corral at the farm down the lane.
General unrest.

October in Chilmark.
Greenhouse Lane awash in puddles.
Strong winds coming off the island.
A black rubber boat is being launched off of Squibnocket Beach.
Solitary sailor.
Pulls to start his motor.
The wind picks up.
He keeps pulling.
Upgrades to a steady yank now.
Heading farther out.
A tiny speck in the binoculars. No luck yet with the engine.
We call Pete.

Our designated officer of Island Security.
Binoculars on their leash, fishing visor snuggly on the brow, walking stick at the ready,
he marches down to the steps. Yep. Guy’s in trouble. Call the coast guard.
What do ya mean there’s no answer.
Boat out of Falmouth?
Guys’ drifting over to Block Island.

This is the man you want watching your back.
And he makes a good retirement doing just that.
Though we trust that Della keeps the lid on.
Pete says they used to cut peat out of the meadow and store it in this stone shed.

I wouldn’t be surprised if he has a cure for this common cold.
But he keeps it tucked under that hat.
Maybe I’ll ask Della.