I Shoot People

A big ship needs big lines to hold it to the dock.  This hawswer was coiled on the dock, and ready to be used.

A lone trawler heading out to sea to ply the waves and return with a hold full of goodies!

This old craft has earned a little respect.  Having been through decades of hard weather she doesn’t look as nice as when she was new — but she’s earned the right to her shabbiness as well as a close berth.

Now that winter is near,  thoughts of summer warm the heart.

Season’s end. The workhorse of the harbor has been removed from Lake Superior, repairs have been made, and she sits patiently waiting for the onslaught of winter, and the only too long wait till spring when once again this old girl can get back to doing her favorite — pushing other boats around with attitude.

I tiny boat, silhouetted against the sunrise, on his way out in search of breakfast.

There’s a special light in the early morning and early evening that can’t be mimicked. And a special quiet to the world in those early hours before the rest of the world get around to moving about and getting their work done.

Some of my best friends are nightowls who rise late and stay up most of the night. But I’ve never been one of them. There’s nothing quite like an early morning walk along the water.

The sight of a harbor full of sailboats brings with it the sound of metallic clinking in the rigging as the boats rest at their moorings. It’s not the sound of breathing. It’s the beating of the harbor’s collective heart; waiting for the skippers to come aboard and bring the sleeping craft to life with the breath of the wind.