the boats are beginning to leave the water. the harbour changes it's face for the seasons. each weather variation creating a mask of activity or lack thereof. we are heading into the still season. the deep bellies exposed as they balance motionless next to the water that eventually turns to ice. the masts removed and flattened like felled trees. i love to weave among these neighborhood giants. i look out and see the expanse of water meet the sky, a great spread of blue. and i wonder if the peace that settles so easily in my being is partially due to the halcyon vista of endless blue that i'm treated to each morning.

overnight a collection of rocks became a marvelous little display along the waterfront walkway. precarious and beautiful. i don't know who does it, but i imagine kids who get focussed and obsessed on making just one more and this wonderful village springs up from their hands.
pulling on the same clothes i've worn for two days from the bedroom floor, to get edgar out for his walk to loosen up his stiff and lanky legs, squinting from the bright sun, but loving it. and once again, being happy that i have my camera in tow. meeting friends along the path on their way to practice yoga by the lake, jogging in the morning sunshine. and now i'm scrounging around for coffee, but i believe we are out, so i'll walk up to the corner and bring us home coffees to drink in the sunny yard. here we go, another day to fill with loveliness!!!

above our harbour, the skies have been darkening and rumbling and building a drama, a heavy and a humid drama. we were racing around town doing errands, watching the storm form over wolfe island. as we drove the sky would glow and shake and growl.
and then we were home. the boats seemed so calm and settled, even when the lightning started. we could see the rain falling in cloud form, across the lake. and now it's moved across the water to us. our windows are open and the lullaby of rain is filling the rooms. i'm drinking lavender soda. and watching 10 hours of dvr-ed wimbledon tennis. with the gentle pitch and quiver of summer rain as my background music.

when the waves in the harbour are no longer slapping on the boats, making them sway and tip and lean, that is the change of season for me. they were all out this afternoon when tom & i took edgar tripping around the harbour and along the stone walls of the prison. only the coast guard and the st. lawrence ll were still afloat. when all the boats are paralyzed on their perches and bandaged in tarps or shrink wrap, with no optimistic lone brothers bobbing in the november waves, it's time for winter to begin. it takes about 6 weeks to empty the entire harbour, folding each vessel into it's winter hold. the cycle of summer is ended for now and will start finding itself again in the spring when the boats are mobile.