Nostalgic
Having just returned from the place in which I spent over fifty years living, playing, working and photographing...............it is, I guess, only natural to get a little nostalgic.
A lot of great writers have taken us to the Eastern Shore of the Chesapeake Bay in Maryland, but I did live it. If you dig long enough through the 2011 archives, you can find my series on "Minding the Roots at Tavern Creek" and you will begin to understand my devotion to that place.
My morning's cup of Pike Place Roast and the rare early morning quiet of this South Carolina urban neighborhood allows my mind to drift (again). Places like the Chester River come to mind. A major tributary to "The" major tributary that we call simply "The Bay".
The Sultana leading the Ellsworth to port at Chestertown, MD.
River life is constantly changing. Every loop you make on the mower presents another scene. Every time you lift your head from some other chore around the house, the view is different. Or often as not nothing is changing.
I miss steamed crabs. For years we could pick them off the pilings of the docks with a dip net. Net them in the grasses of the shallows or simply throw a couple of pots off the dock. Then things slowed down and there was a period that very few could be found on the Chesapeake. Now, I understand they are back.
Like clockwork, "My" osprey pair would return each March 15th to set up housekeeping on the platform I built for them just off the dock. I hope they still return to that spot because I have seen at least a dozen pairs raised on that piling nest.
Another river dweller. This one atop a buoy which would rock and roll with the wake of every boat to pass.
And finally the night scenes and the last cup of the day.
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