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Storms on the St. Lawrence can be beautiful to behold . . . and they also can be life-threatening.
“How about I try to catch us a nice fish for dinner, Sparkle?” The old tabby cat stretched out on her shelf just above the warmly glowing potbellied stove perked her head up at her owner’s voice. “A fresh bass would make for a fine Christmas Eve.”
Our grandmother, Caroline Wright, was known for many things, but on the St. Lawrence River she could always be identified by her signature white sailor’s cap,
Sallie was the very definition of a blonde bombshell. Tall, shapely, blessed with thick waves of long blonde hair, and striking blue eyes that mirrored the color of the River on a perfect summer’s day.
They are the old-fashioned, small, now often overlooked, boats that generations of River people have relied on for transportation—or just for fun.
