A Different Kind Of Morning

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Harbor watching on a gray morning. View from my deck.

We moved last week.  We moved from a lovely house on the hill, a cabin really that overlooked a busy harbor.  A working harbor.  We moved to a house out of town, on the water. A bigger lot, not so close to neighbors.  Lots of trees and privacy. It is quiet here.  And dark at night. And peaceful.  I honestly thought when I left our old house I would miss the hustle and bustle of living in town.  Watching the boats in the harbor.  Up on the grid, pleasure boats, tour boats, cruise ships, massive and slightly toxic to  visiting yachts and sailboats. to tenders, dark in the Narrows with bright lanterns lit.  Buzzing float planes hug the water and Jets soar above.  And on the deck, fishermen moving up and down, loading, unloading. Cleaning… always cleaning.

I do miss it.  And I don’t.  I am learning that this house, this shoreline has it’s own impressionable activity.   Watching the waves and the tide is mesmerizing.  The sun on the water, extraordinary, the moon on the water feels eerie and enchanting.

In this short week this is what we have experienced.  By the numbers.

Thousands of seagulls, calling, gliding, clustering

Hundred of trees. Bull Pines.  Birch. Hemlock. Cedar.  Ornamental trees, Holly.  Red Maple. Japanese Maple.  Bushes. Shrubs.

Eight.  Eight days ago I woke in my old house, said a quiet little goodbye, shed a tiny tear and headed to work.  When I got off work 12 hours later I drove to the new address. I dodged boxes, drank champagne, and went to sleep in a new house.

Seven nights.  I have slept in a new bed, in a new room in a new darkness and silence for seven nights. No more restless nights spent worrying about small details concerning the move.

Six.  There were at least six, maybe as many as eight Killer Whales in the pod we saw, black specks against the far shore, brought into sharp focus by binoculars.   On a mission, heading south.

Five seiners coming home ahead of a storm, their bows low in the water, full of fish, lights bright against the inky night.

Four friends stopping by.  With meals.  With pies.  With flowers to help me carry a load, unpack a box, organize my kitchen.

Three eagles sit on the twisted tree and observe us as we move box, after box after box.  They tuck in their wings, ruffle their feathers an watch us with sharp yellow eyes and angry brows.

Two humpback whales.  It was magical, the first day here we saw the whales – not a stones throw away.  We heard them spout and spray as they passed by.

One Seal greeted us our first morning, swam right up to shore.  His shiny head and dewy eyes, bobbing under the waves and then back for another curious look.

One sea lion, intimidating, moving slowly, only for a moment, we happened to be looking, then he was gone.

One heron, long necked, and gray standing on pencil thin legs.

And I predict many, many mornings like this one- drinking coffee watching the waves and the boats and the wildlife, where hours slide past like minutes.

Misty morning view from my writing chair.

(Prompt words: Soar, impressionable, toxic, lanterns and slide – WHEW!)

4 thoughts on “A Different Kind Of Morning

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