But the camera was waiting in the car, and my jacket was already wet; why waste an outing? I got the camera into its rain gear, and went down to the boats.
At the bottom of the ramp, a dead harbour seal was floating, half out of the water.
|A sad picture, but the spotted hide is interesting.|
The head seems to be intact, but skin was sloughing off the back feet already. The creamy line across the centre back seems to be a cut. He may have been in an accident with one of the boats.
|Maybe someone ignored this sign. Photo taken with flash, which reflected off the falling rain to make that paler circle of blue. The house is one of the harbour buildings, out on a pier.|
|Warm light reflecting off ridges on the ramp, and, directly under the light, off raindrops slanting down.|
|Just lights, warm and cool, on the water.|
|There was one bird; a great blue heron, looking miserable in the rain. I lightened the photo up quite a bit; he was barely visible.|
I went back to the car, got the camera out of its rain gear, changed the settings to cope with the fading light, suited it up again, and went out, to discover the heron just flying away, a dark, wide-winged shadow flitting behind the masts of the boats.
|And here are the boats, with all the little lights and someone's bright yellow rain gear.|
The darkness and rain blurs out distances, so that the masts and equipment blend in with the traffic lights beyond, the fish and chip shop across the street, and even the houses in the next block above. In spite of the dark and the wet, it felt cosy, somehow; as if the people in all those little pockets of warmth and light were connected by a common thread; the hour maybe, the time to finish off today's work, and get a hot meal on the table.
And I went home, dried off the camera, hung my jacket to drip over the tub, and cooked up a batch of chicken and mushroom soup.