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.
the calm in the afternoon looking across the Salish Sea (click for larger view)
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.
A fishing vessel pushing through the Pass against the flooding tide; the rippled water silvered by the sunlight making for a stark contrast against the shadowed hillside of Mayne Island.
The colours of the morning sun most certainly are golden. Here the arbutus and cedars display their stunning colour, texture and shapes. The warmth of the colours belies the chill of the day.
~ evening light... click on the image for a larger view
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.
The smooth water, contrasted with the shapes of the sandstone and logs... a pleasing mix, in the morning's light, of shape and texture. Maybe it's an indication of what the day holds —
It looks like the forecast is matching what we saw as the sun rose this morning. Heavy rain and wind are in the offing. Meanwhile —there was a blaze of glory in the early light.
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I’ve added a few adjustments to this iPhone photo with Photoshop and Topaz Simplify get the image closer to what my 'eye' saw.
Late November morning- (click photo for a larger image)
Such a Novemberish outlook this morning. Misty rain, and dim light. Everything shades of blue and grey with a tinge of green as I look out over the water. The mist hangs on the trees. The quiet blankets the coastline. But for the lapping waves and the occasion call of an eagle or gull — only silence.
This Sunday marks the beginning of a new season (Advent), and I love that the season of expectation, of hanging on a promise, begins in these days of still descending into the darkness. Of quiet. Though the department stores, grocery stores, and gift shops will play their ubiquitous ‘Jingle Bell Rock’ and blended carols, its not quite time to celebrate. First this season. First waiting. In the dimmer light. Even in the dark. With hope.
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glimpses of the extraordinary amidst an ordinary day