There was such a magical glow to everything last evening at Lighthouse beach in Chatham.
The sun had set and the water was at times, still as glass.
Ducks, gulls and Eiders fished just offshore…
Conversing with great gusto.
We came upon a solitary Sanderling…
Searching for bites to eat from the crab shells scattered along the shore.
And as I looked back at the lighthouse behind me, rising statuesque against the clouds…
The Constance Sea was comin’ home with her catch for the day.
Covered with a flock of gulls, eager for some sushi tidbits.
Just one of the daily rituals in a fishing village like Chatham.
It was just me and Stage Harbor Light this morning at sunrise.
The view from Cockle Cove Beach, so calming.
Calming for me, that is.
Yet for the fishermen out there at sea…
It was just another day to catch a fish.
Personally? Getting the chance to look at that view, I kinda’ think I was the one who hauled in the catch of the day! 😉
I arrived at Forest Beach and was thrilled to see that our rosa rugosas had bloomed overnight. Like many a Cape Codder, I wait for them all winter.
Taking a look around me, it sure seemed like everyone had gone fishin’!
One of the big commercial fishing boats was just heading out under a full head of steam.
Closer to shore, fishermen in all shapes and sizes were using their own unique methods for hauling in their catch of the day.
I was drawn to one fisherman just beyond the jettie where I was standing.
It was easy to get mesmerized. Spellbound…
By the light on the water. The slow, methodical motions of this solitary fisherman simply going about his work.
It was nice to see that I was not alone in the pleasure of the moment.
Yet as the sun climbed higher and higher, I knew I’d better get a move on to my next stop if I wanted to find a parking place.
On to Red River Beach!
Ahh…. Saturday morning.
Looks like everyone’s gone fishin’.
All except for one. 😉
At about this time every summer when I am juuust about ready to scream about the dripping humid heat and the Cape Cod crowds, I am reminded of how small my worries really are.
On my evening walks I hear the cries of hungry, young ospreys filling the skies above the marshes and I am reminded…
That they beat the air with tireless wings, day in and day out, in order to learn this thing they absolutely must — fishing.
For this is survival time. In the days ahead juvenile ospreys must learn to fish so they can eat today and be strong for the long flight home come October.
Rising in the air, then falling, then rising again, somehow with repeated attempts and uncoordinated failures…
They finally do manage to figure it all out.
In comparison to their struggles, I guess can handle a little more heat and noise as summer draws to a close here on ole’ Cape Cod. 😉