A few Saturday mornings ago, I was in my regular spot, writing at my desk. I had every intention of remaining there. I had a prompt to respond to and a list of other creative and mundane “to do’s” to accomplish. I was content, but also determined to be on task and focused.
Then I glanced outside and saw this sky:
It takes a much stronger woman than I am to resist that lure!
Mere minutes later, I was hastily dressed and in my car driving down to the waterfront. I arrived there to soft light and a flock of seagulls.
I stood at the shoreline and watched the gulls swoop and dive. Their white and grey bodies shone against the changing light and mist and fog. It was mesmerizing.
I watched them while my fingers grew cold, then colder and then began to ache. They flew in large circles or ovals over the water, their dark shadows mirroring them in the river, like phantom dance partners.
Often gulls can be quite loud. On this morning they were mostly silent, adding to the surreal atmosphere. Occasionally, one of them called — a sudden thrust of sound partially muted by the fog and mist. Echoing off and away across the river.
After a while, I wandered further along the shore. Raindrops from the previous day’s storm lined branches. Many were oddly shaped and half-frozen, etched with crystal. Caught in a liminal zone between water and ice. A spider web strand had transformed into a showcase for glowing orbs, neatly arranged along its length. Each one a complete, dazzling marvel.
Glancing upriver, I saw more gulls and a horizon layered with fog-softened grades of water, tree and sky.
Somehow, I’ve fallen out of the habit of visiting the local waterfront. I’ve been enjoying lazy mornings at home instead, or the occasional trek down to the marsh. Watching the gulls’ aerial ballet on this morning, seeing the light shift, and noticing the beauty that surrounded me, I felt a shift, a gentle click and an opening. It was as if a key had turned in some internal lock.
I was where I was supposed to be.
Nix the comfort zone 
Beautiful writing. I’ve been teaching students to add comparisons to their writing because then it allows the reader to really “sees” what they are writing about. YOU did this so spectacularly here. Your writing shows what a great observer you are, even on really cold days. So glad you were lured outsdie and took me along with you through this slice. Thanks for sharing.
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Thanks, Sally! I am also glad I was lured outside.
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Gorgeous, absolutely stunning! I am feeling the spirit of Mary Oliver right here in your words and photos, and the water definitely called you at the right time. That is complete commitment to the inner peace that beckons us to drop what we are doing and go take in something in nature. I was reading about the therapeutic benefits of the ice plunges that people do, and this reminds me that sometimes the warmth is best right after the cold. It also reminds me of the photos I took when I was in Vermont and Massachusetts a couple of weeks ago. Berry branches had little ice crystals attached to them, and I photographed them through the windows. Your post brings great peace today, and I’m thankful for the calm feeling.
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I’m so glad that the peace of the moment came through to you. Were you by chance reading “Wintering”? Love that book!
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Molly, I love how your writing takes me on a journey of beauty and noticing with you. I love “a key had turned in some internal lock.” My internal clock is kind of stuck at the moment. Stuck in holiday worry. You make me long for a moment of peace, watching circling gulls, and hearing the call to just be present.
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So sorry, Margaret! Busy days can make it hard to find pockets of serenity. Hoping you find a moment soon and are able to lean into it!
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Really liked this one.
Even though I see the river every day, this really captured it in a unique way.
Love my super talented wife!!!
K
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Thanks! I’m pretty fond of you, too! 😉
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Thanks, as always, for taking us along with your photos and words.
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Glad you could join me!
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Beautiful photos and words. The whole post is so peaceful. It draws you in and gives you rest. Thank you!
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Thank you! It really was such a lovely, peaceful time.
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Molly, within your writing, peace flows in a beautiful way. I am awed by your words and photos. The pink tones you saw in the sky were also shining a couple of nights ago as my husband were coming home from errands. Thank you for this pre-Christmas gift. May your bring us more nature tales throughout this season.
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Thanks, Carol! Wishing you the best over the holidays!
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Your writing and photos are beautiful. Thank you for giving me a moment of peace to interact with them.
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Thank YOU for stopping by and commenting! I’m so glad you enjoyed my post.
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I’m grateful you heeded the call of the sky. Every word and photo evokes peace and healing. Your writing is ethereal and poetic. My favorite photo is the spider web. Seeing those strands holding water is such an intimate detail.
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I love how spiderwebs capture those drops. They look like beads strung on a necklace! I was also fascinated by the etched and elongated water droplets.
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As always, incredible photographs! We are so lucky you were lured from your desk and ended up right where you were meant to be. The description of the gulls and the scene are peaceful, yet busy. I love this line in particular “a sudden thrust of sound partially muted by the fog and mist”. Never thought of the power of fog and mist to mute. Thanks so much for sharing, Molly!
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Thanks! I can’t believe how long it has been since I ventured down that way. I’m hoping to visit more frequently, especially over break.
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Dear Ms. Molly:
I cannot tell you how distinctly I imagined you pulling my hand and running, coupled with the elated invitation, “Come! Look!”
As I read and scrolled through each picture, I felt like your invisible voice was unveiling magic in incremental pieces. It felt most symphonic. I could hear the fairly silent seagulls, muted by the picturesque setting. I could feel the sting of frostbite that could not deter you from lingering with fascination.
Thoughtfully noted by your peers, I believe you took me on a journey. I was eager to go. A waterfront is foreign to me here in Colorado, though I’m certainly familiar with cold and have seen the occasional seagull. I was terribly elated to stand beside you and see what you saw; hear what you heard – and to feel the tingle of exhilaration inherent in immersing yourself in nature’s finest landscapes.
Thank you so much for the invitation. I lingered. It was time well spent.
With Warmest Regards,
~Dr. Brown
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Thanks so much for coming along and for taking the time to comment. It was a pretty magical moment at the waterfront!
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Indeed!!
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Beautiful!
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Thanks!
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Mesmerizing photos, especially the first of purple hue. Your final line is how Hannah and I feel when someone can’t come to a get together. No poor me/us. Just everyone is where they are supposed to be! We are much happier with that attitude. The wisdom that comes with age!
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You and Hannah always teach me something well worth learning! Wishing you the best of holidays!
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