This evening at the lighthouse, the water was cold enough that it was frozen in a long swath from shore’s edge to the end of the breakwater that shelters that little beach. Not solid, but in short, sharp chunks that rode the waves like fierce little boats in a tight formation. The waves shushed in and out and the ice chattered crossly above them.
Your fingers would have been stinging with hurt within minutes of exposure to the wind skidding off of the harbor, if you had been there with me.
The sun was setting and I thought, Well, a sunset, that’s always a nice photograph, but maybe people get tired of sunsets.
And then it started. Sunset creeps up slowly and then suddenly races to its conclusion. Where ever you are when it begins, that is more than perfect enough. Don’t waste time looking for a better vantage point because in your search you’ll lose the moment, the light will slip away over your shoulder and you’re left with nothing.
So I stood there with my very cold fingers and my camera and I watched it set.
And I thought, anyone who gets tired of this must have a heart that is two sizes too small.
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