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THURSDAY.
FINAL DAY of this little trip.
NATIONAL DAY OF PRAYER.
Call it what you will, Reader Dear.
We got up in the morning and strolled around Easton, Maryland.  Which is where we discovered that folks were gathering in the town square (and such a delightful square--birds singing, shade and sunshine, nature at its finest) for prayer.

Sorry to say, we did not stay

We had to drive out to visit the bay
(Couldn't postpone it for another day
[Because, well, we had to go home that evening, hey, hey])

Way out at some tippy-tip point of Tilghman Island, Maryland, is where we stopped and spent a pleasant half-hour.  We had to stop; it was the end of the road.  Had it not been for a very large vessel out there on the horizon, and the obviously man-manipulated rocks at the water's edge, the Yard Man and I could have imagined ourselves to be the first two citizens of the world!  (Yeah, well, there was the big paved area, too; quite sure the Yard Man and I wouldn't have managed that on our own. Though as it just so happened, it didn't deter me--I got to thinking those fanciful thoughts, anyway).

Returning to a world populated by other folks (whew, thank heavens) involved backtracking on the roads we'd traveled to get there.  That's how the Yard Man knew the very spot he was going to get himself some lunch! Eww, boy--a crab cake sandwich and fries!

As for me, I held out for a place that provided tables, though this place was nothin' if not authentic, Reader Dear (two old codgers shootin' the breeze, the cook's twin babies romping on the floor, the "jiffy market" shelves stocked with such an assortment!)   Of course, while the Yard Man raved, I (slightly) rued.
"This is the best crab sandwich I've EVER eaten!" He smacked his lips.

But my crab sandwich was pretty good, too.

And with a water view!

 

 By the time we had finished up the double lunch, and strolled around to several shops in Easton, it was just about time for evening prayers (on this day of prayer).  

We headed north. 

Headed home.  

Headed into the next forty years.  

(Say it however you wish, Reader Dear!)

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