It’s gray outside. The bay is nearly the same color as the sky and you can barely tell where the water ends and the sky begins. The water is slightly darker and the texture of the waves gives itself away. Much like my mood today, the grayness is thorough and deep. There are no birds in sight, which is rather unusual. I wonder where is our resident Great Blue Heron? Perhaps he’s hunkered under the pier, planning his next fishy meal. The sun is hidden behind a ceiling of thick seamless gray clouds. My normal sunny disposition is hidden behind a feeling of moroseness. I have no particular reason for this feeling.
Nothing bad has happened, I just woke up this way. The winter tides are the lowest I’ve ever seen them, revealing the normally hidden floor of the marshy area. Dead fish carcasses have bared their spiny bones, heads still intact. Poor things couldn’t find their way out as the tide ebbed. They will, no doubt, be replaced by their cousins when the tide finds its way back behind the rocky breakwater.
The breakwater is fully exposed in all its cragginess. It, too, has uncovered its secrets. Lost fishing lures and floats, barnacles, a lone empty crab cage with a large gouge in the side where the fortunate crabs escaped their prison. The once white float the crab cage was attached to is tangled in the rocks nearby. The green slime attached to it has made the float look like a marbled orb of interestingly mottled art. I could dredge it out but then it would simply dry out and lose its loveliness I think, so I won’t bother.
It's chilly and damp out here and the gray surrounds me, I even have on gray sweats to match my ‘tude. Perhaps tomorrow both the day and I will wake up with sunnier dispositions. One can only hope.
No comments:
Post a Comment