What a difference a day makes…

Balans en grenzen uit meer dan werk, I remind myself after 5 pm each night.  And so, I take evening walks after exercise, after work, most evenings.  The harbour is familiar, of course, but like any good friend it has it’s temperament.

 

Yesterday was moody, still and humid, clouds low over Brownsea Island.  The sailboats moored still, at rest.  From Evening Hill, it was a blend of greys, sky indistinguishable from water.  Paddle-boarders oared along the Spit; only the rescue craft gave colour to the beach.  A line of sailboats threaded among the red and green market buoys, hurrying home before dark.  It reminds me of evenings along Puget Sound, mist laden with mystery.

 

Today was different, quiet but contemplative.

 

Pico Laser dinghys drifted into the Parkstone Yacht Club, sails reaching for the day’s last breath of breeze.  Faint laughter drifted up from the (Members Only) Boat House, fueled by cold beer and warmed-over canapés.

  

The forest of masts glowed in the fading light, while a lone thunderhead made futile menace over houses on Sandbanks Road.