A weird day. Fret coming and going. The weather literally changing from minute to minute. I LLLEEEUUUVVE the sea. When she is calm. I love the sea when stormy if no boats would be on it and no danger is present. She can be our friend or our enemy. She feeds us, body and soul, and she takes. One could write about the sea and never have enough paper in the world to describe all her facets.
From stacked lobster pots
To foggy harbour entrances
From lined up boats waiting for skippers
To skippers arriving in the morning, when all the fog is gone…
From century old houses near the sea board
To gulls of all sorts and kinds on the roof tops.
I look out over the harbour from our room and see the hustling and bustling. A couple of boys doing what boys do at the waterside. Throwing rocks and showing off to each other, telling tales of bravery.
I could sit and watch the whole day. I wished I could hear their tales.
Boys and tourists… Watched by another tourist. I could spend the rest of my life sitting and snap. Scenes of nice times out.
High tide… I have never before seen the odd building just outside the harbour with a floating boat before. High tide is for when the tourists have gone home. Only the staying ones know what happens after that.
When the sun slowly goes down, and the fret marks even that. No red sunset… Only a pastel one.
The last boat coming back in…
The fret is retreating over the sea, the harbour becomes sharp again…
Almost a sin to go inside for the night.
Night night birdies on the chimney, see ya tomorrow!Share