… on the unintended, intentionally


I was in a hurry.

No really.

I had been invited to participate in the pre-cursor or all pre-cursors…

Okay, I don’t want it to get around, so don’t tell anyone and I’ll tell you. Okay? Okay. I was invited to participate in the Boothbay Harbor Windjammer Days’ lighted boat parade, and I am told this is step one to being invited to participate in the Boothbay Harbor Festival of Lights in December which is all about Christmas (Yes. You are correct. I may have been preparing for this for, like, for my WHOLE LIFE). I will tell you more about the Windjammer Days’ lighted boat parade later, but it involved decking out a lobster boat in lights and decorations, and then meeting up with lots of other boats that their crews have decked out in lights and decorations. Also there were glow sticks.

Where was I?

Oh.

I had been invited to this wicked special event and I was running late so I was all kinds of speedy (but not speeding, officers, I swear).

I actually ended up arriving at the dock with a few minutes to spare and, after hoisting my camera bag onto my shoulder and scooping up my bag of provisions, I realized this – the ‘I’ve got time to breathe’ thing – and I did just that.

I headed ’round the building the long way, and stopped – not quite dead, but sort of catatonic – in my tracks.

In every other view I’d had, in the twenty minutes or so of driving around the harbor toward my destination, it was all about a beautiful sky on the brink of sunset… color, color, color.

But not here.

Here is was about water alight with sparkles, and nearly everything – I knew – would appear as if in black and white once I aimed my camera at it.

My first shots captured the lobster boat above, along with a smaller boat on a mooring in the foreground. I’m a big fan of lobster boats, and can’t get enough of them through my lens. But there was something about the little boat that grabbed ahold of me and said, ‘look here’.

I turned to shoot it alone, and found myself loving its shape, and the moorings and buoys in the background.

And then…

And then a lone gull swooped into my frame.

And the moment became immortal.

When I look at it, I can smell the air, feel the last heat of the day, and hear the gull’s call.

My memory slow dancing with pixels on a screen.

I’m actually kind of big on not taking photos of every single moment. I think the writing part of my brain recognizes the importance of not interrupting the Memory Assembly Line at every turn. Plus, those little ‘tap on the shoulder’ moments are kind of great.

You know…

Those moments when you have one idea in mind, but another one taps you on the shoulder and whispers, “Come with me.” How can you refuse? All you can do take the new idea’s hand and trust that it knows what it’s doing. It’s pretty much a wonder trust fall.

I’m so glad I did it (let go of my initial plan, that is), and so often do.

And, oh, don’t worry!

I made it to the lighted boat parade with time to spare.

And it.

Was.

Awesome.

Thanks for readin’.

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