Patterns On the Waters

I have to admit that my humble and tiny quarters near the waters has its delights. It affords me an ever changing vista. Even on a dull day as today, it can change by the minute. There are ships and boats, sailing craft and water-skiers out there, going about their lawful occasions and of course, the tides.

It is an estuary, to give it its proper nomenclature, although Admiral Bruni D'Entrecasteaux all those years ago when this was a quite undiscovered region declared it to be the most beautiful and safe harbour in all the world.

The tide comes in and puts a temporary halt to the outflow of the great Derwent River, making patterns that shift and flow. The sky determines the water colour: sometimes a deep or bright blue: sometimes, as today, a steel or slate gray.

Man-made patterns there are too from the wake of ships. And we get some quite large ones here.

I am looking forward to the summer when as usual we shall receive 'tourist' ships that are taller than most of the buildings in Hobart, each bringing several thousand people from all parts to enjoy this spot. This year promises the most we have ever had. 

Meanwhile the daily parade of more mundane vessels ply by. Small boats towing fish cages for instance. We grow a huge amount of Salmon close by.

And the sailing boats, both large and small.

And the tide comes in and goes out: the river gaining temporary supremacy again.

In a moment it can change as a rain burst reaches down, water to water. Just now. From dull/sunny to mistiness and rain in a minute flat.

Look one way and.......

Look the other way and.......

A chap's soul can be quite quiet here. But never bored.

We leave our marks and sometimes quite beautiful patterns on the waters of our lives. We flow down fast streams making bubbles; we flow out across great plains, weaving this way and that, making eddys; we push our way, often reluctantly into an Ocean of other people all making a mark too. 

And the tide comes in. Our patterns and marks, our wakes, disappear at our Wake.

Pax.

(Photos from the King Amfortas Photographic Studio and Armour Repair Smithy)