somewhere in between

Coming into work I cross over the Schuylkill River every morning, just about halfway to the office. I’m usually a little foggy myself, but I always enjoy my glimpse of the river as I cross over. “How are the fish biting today? Is the water up? Wish I was putting in the kayak for a paddle.” These kinds of thoughts run through my head, but then I’m past it, and on up the hill to work.

This morning though, as it sometimes is in the spring, it was otherworldly crossing over the bridge. The colors had all drained away and it was nearly impossible to tell where the river left off and the sky began. I stopped to just look at it for a while, and saw this shot in my head before I even took it.

It seemed like an interesting metaphor for many mornings. You kind of emerge from the fog of sleep, to be faced with all these tangled issues that twirl and branch and seem insurmountable, but the fog dissolves and slowly the way, somewhere in between, usually appears.

Coffee helps.

Its funny how on the way home, I usually get a sunset off the water, the river once again reflecting the day. Sometimes you’ve just got to keep rolling on, whether you can see what’s coming or not.


the picnic’s over

Here’s my answer to today’s theme assignment of solitude. It was found down at the farm park by the river. This is where I’ll stop and fish sometimes, or launch my kayak, or sometimes just sit at lunch to get away from the computer a bit. The river moves slow here just above the dam, and this time of year I usually have it all to myself. All the jet skis and water skiers and most of the fishing boats are gone. The light dances slowly on the water, which seems almost copper-colored in the fall. The geese go honking by, and if I’m really quiet and lucky, an eagle or osprey will glide past hunting for fish. I’ll occasionally hear the bobcat up at the small nature center growl, which is pretty cool. Mostly it’s just quiet, which really has a sound all it’s own doesn’t it?

to the well

Today’s photo assignment was water, but I came up a bit dry. The lighting all day was just crappy gray and the shots I did try just didn’t get there. I think I’ll try do this again on a better day, but for now this one will have to do. It was sort of a dreary, lonely day so this shot kind of fit.

I grew up hardly ever getting out of the water. Pop would take me to the Y and just let me drop in when I was 3, and I’d just kind of bob along. Then came age group swimming and almost 30 years of water polo. Every summer we’d camp for several weeks at Lake George out on the islands. We spent all day in our suits, swimming and snorkeling, paddling and sailing.
Later I was fortunate enough to be on the Avalon beach patrol where I would just watch the ocean in wonder. (Sometimes I watched the swimmers too.) I learned to surf there as well, which is just about the most fun you can possibly have. Now we kayak whenever and wherever we can.

I love the way water seems to have different personalities and moods. Water can be furious and roiling or tranquil and sublime. It’s colors are like a natural alchemy. It changes from lead to silver to gold to turquoise. Whatever it’s mood, It always refreshes my spirit. My wife and I always say how we have to drink it in and store it up for the winter, as we float around in the lake at the end of summer.

But sometimes, like in this photo, it can be kind of melancholy.