Category Archives: weather

Seeing in the mist

Walking along the Bluffs, when the clouds enveloped the hillside, most of the view was obscured, hidden in the mists.

On a clear day, my eye is drawn to the array of islands, Mayne, Prevost, Saltspring, and the larger hills of southern Vancouver Island, and even the gorgeous Olympics beyond. Eagles often soar above and beneath us and the sound of sea lions ascends from the Pass.

But on this misty day, it was different. It  offered a distinctive beauty only ‘visible' when the mist obscures those things that draw the eye on a clear day. It seems that its on misty days the shape of things is revealed. The lichens gleam bright on the darker fir limbs, the mosses almost glow. 

It was in the fog and mist that I noticed the beauty of one tall snag: one I have seen frequently, but not til the mist obscured most everything else did I note its structure, its curves, its peculiar bare beauty. 

Makes me wonder what other beauty I am missing when the sky is clear, and the days are bright.

a colourful start

just before sunrise

I was up early,  and out to the  Point  to enjoy the brilliant dawn colours. Katrina enjoyed sniffing the trails of the raccoons and deer that had visited overnight while  I watched the shifting colours and the morning flights of gulls, geese, and ducks.

The rarity of an almost cloudless sunrise allowed me to identify just how far the sun has moved north. More light, more warmth. And it's most welcome!

Morning by morning…

The mornings are always different, always changing, always beautiful...  This is a sampling of my morning photos from Flagpole Point this past week shows something of the daily changes.   Click on each photo to see it in larger format. 

 

Morning Light

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The view looking to the north from our Point this morning  is much less gold and ‘way more pink than the view to the east. But both are awesome.

The reflection of the clouds colours on the smooth calm water,  the patterns of the clouds, the quiet broken only with the sounds of eagles calling, seals and otters splashing— a fine beginning to the day.

even with a limited view…

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The fog has enfolded us for several days. We can barely see across our bay, and certainly can't see any farther. At the same time, while our view is limited, there's a different kind of beauty even now—  even here shrouded in the mists.

In the forests, the mosses practically glow in the diffused light, and the depth of the forest is more 'visible' as the trees fade into the mist. On the roads, the shapes of the bare trees are revealed — unique sculptures, each one. Spider webs are strings of tiny beads, as the moisture forms on each slender thread.

What is it you see when the fog enfolds?

Morning by morning…varied views

Each morning, when I take the dog out for her first walk of the day, I venture out to the Point for a clear view of the morning’s light. If it has rained at all, I note the measurement in the rain gauge, and then empty it for the next 24 hour monitoring. And I take photos.

Every day is so different —the light,  the angle of the sun, the patterns and textures of the clouds, the tide’s height in its constant ebb and flow, the way the waves are meeting the shore,  the presence of various shore birds, gulls, otters and seals. Occasionally, on a very still morning, my attention is caught by the breath sounds of a humpback whale, and I see the spray of it’s powerful exhalation far out in the distance.

For over a year I’ve been documenting the mornings under the title ‘The Point this morning’.  I had intended to do my photo project  only for the 6 months from winter solstice to summer solstice, to note the wide varying of the sun’s position at sunrise. But these daily photo glimpses became such an important part of my day’s beginning, I carried on.  Now, I can't bear to give it up so I’m thinking I will contimue for the time being and see what happens...

feeling small : precarious ventures

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Watching a fishboat depart from the sheltered waters of Whaler Bay in the early morning, with a strong NW wind, and beneath a rather ominous looking sky, reminds me how precarious every venture is. Again the Breton Fisherman's prayer seems apt, not only for those who literally go to the sea in ships, but for us all:
Dear God, be good to me for the sea is so large, and my boat is so small.