Yesterday we had a short reprieve between storms: the sun shone, the wind dropped and the sea settled to a mirror calm. Mt. Baker glowed on the far side of the Salish Sea.
But best of all is the sweep of clouds, with the small pale moon visible beyond them, to the left of centre frame.
The days begin with a walk to Flagpole Point before breakfast.
In part it is a necessity, to walk the dog, but equally important is that this outing provides me a chance to appreciate the uniqueness of each morning. Though it is the same place, the variation is infinite: light, colour and texture in differing combinations.
The rising sun’s position is constantly shifting with the seasons, tides varying with moon-phase, wind and weather, clouds, fog, rain, or clear… Add to this, the cast of birds and small animals. I never know just what the morning jaunt will offer: kingfishers, herons, otters, harlequins, eagles, mink, seals…
It has long been my habit to record these first glimpses of the day there with a few photos, usually just on my iPhone, but sometimes with my ‘big’ camera. Recently it occurred to me to share some of my morning glimpses with others, so I created a Flickr Album Mornings at Flagpole Point which you can view here.
My aim is to post one a day. Sometimes, like yesterday when we had a power outage I couldn’t post. There are bound to be other missed days here and there, but mostly it’ll be a daily photo.
Thanks so much for enjoying these glimpses of the world with me.
Wandering out to Flagpole Point after sunset, the glow was still bright, and the water magnified the beauty in reflection…
The colours last night were intense — so lovely I felt I wanted to share this glimpse of the awesome beauty of nightfall.
This pattern of wrinkled humps of seaweed on the rising tide is relatively unusual. It takes several different weather and tide conditions conspiring together to create it.
It goes something like this: First, a southeast wind must blow at low enough tide to accumulate a build up of copious amounts of sea lettuce on the beach. Then, the further receding tide must distribute that sea lettuce over a large patch of the shallow sloping sand, a few inches thick. Then, day must be hot enough to dry the surface of the sea lettuce while the tide has ebbed. The third requirement is that the wind drop, allowing a calm windless period while the tide rises. The result is that the thick layer of sea lettuce is moved slowly from beneath, while the baked-dry surface of the sea lettuce layer is more resistant to movement, and makes for these extraordinary folds.
To me it looks something like colourful elephant skin. Or perhaps a satellite photo of mountain ridges. Or the flowing of some strange green river flowing from the distant rocks… What do you think??
The variations in weather, sunlight and storm alternating all day on Thursday provided a rich show of colours and clouds.
The particular delight of this scene for me is not only the range of colour but the intensity of the pastoral green in the foreground contrasted with the deep grey of the storm over the Tsawwassen bluff in the distance (right). The patch of blue, which an old school-friend would remind me, is definitely ‘enough to patch a sailor’s pants‘ but in this instance it was not a guarantee of sunshine to follow. I love it though, especially with the heavy grey and white clouds, and the glint of light on the rocky islands offshore (Lion Islets for those of you with marine charts).
Life itself is full of variety in texture and colour. Vibrant. Bright colourful parts, and scary dark parts. Maybe that’s something of why I am so drawn to this ever changing view. It’s brim-full of life and change. Always. And in its variety, it stirs in me, at the very least, awe. Wonder.
The variations in the weather today have captivated me. From this morning’s thunderstorm and heavy downpours to the quieter moments of sunlight bursting through and highlighting the berried arbutus and the freshly renewed grass after the summer’s baking heat, it has all been wonderful. From one moment to the next we’ve been witnessing the rapidly shifting moods of weather and variations in light.
The photo (from this afternoon, after yet another thunder shower) shows something of the magnificence of the display, and the turbulence of the air as the weather moves through.
The sun is setting far earlier than in the warmer days of summer. Autumn is truly upon us which made our rowing expedition particularly sweet the other day, the last sunny day of the recent stretch of spectacular weather. The reflections on the water, the light and shadow, the ringed pattern of the drips from the oars, and the darkness of the shore as the sun dropped behind the cedars— all perfectly lovely.
Heading homeward offered this glimpse of peace and safe harbour, with the assurance of a warm fireside, and hot supper…and ‘thawing’ my very cold bare feet.
glimpses of the extraordinary amidst an ordinary day