Shades of Grey

Early evening and the sky meets the sweetwater sea in a dance of subtleties: slate grey water, variegated sky. Wind from the south, offshore, so mild and and soft adrift on the shoreline, but singing in the canopy of aged pines. Tonight, I think of Lighthouse Keepers on this Keweenaw Peninsula during the ninteenth century and of the captains of pioneer vessels and members of the crew. This, the time of ice-out, of shipping and shipwrecks, as reefs and gale winds called them to their end.

Around the point, huge planks of an old wreck have washed ashore, more than a hundred years old. What a tale they tell by their presence. Or the little hand-carved horse I found which sits on the camp table. Whose Louisa would receive this precious gift from father when he came home to port? A father whose beautiful work has now found its way into my hand.

Gifts from Lady Lake in memory of those lost at sea.