The Dance

The Dance 22

There are so many firsts it’s hard to know where to begin so I’ll start with where I’m sitting in the grey dawn.

I’m an early riser and there are lots of things that happen while we humans sleep. Like the swaying rhythm of the boat on the water; and fish feeding beyond the stern of the boat. The tides have dropped 12 feet in the course of 6 hours without our notice. Herons stalk the docks from lamp-post to lamp-post peering into the water hunting a meal. Harbor seals silently glide past so you hardly notice but of course he sees you and corrects course.

Living on water and this close to nature has so many charms, it’s hard to form a cohesive post that doesn’t sound disjointed. Here comes a square nose metal utility powerboat with two  laughing men in safety orange coming back from somewhere. The marina is alive with activity just about anytime of the day, but it is also really quiet. One can hear traffic, but far away as the breeze bears aloft the unpleasant hubbub of the normal world. Most of the silent occupants here just dance with the tide and gentle waves. It is our harsh interruptions that change the dance from a waltz to a jive.

Ah but humans add the interest factor. Marinas offer such an interesting patchwork of personality’s. Everyone has a purpose as they move down the docks either coming or going. Their going make me sad because it means they are leaving the dance. But the ones coming… I want to meet. Here stations in life have very little to do with anything. Meeting on the dock we call to our neighbor, interact and began the slow dance of getting to know our purpose-filled fellow sea-humans. Our neighbors tell us they enjoy sailing the south sound and the best guides to use and invite us to join a local sailing club. They coo over our dogs. Later, someone curses our dogs in an unknown tongue. You can tell the sound of cursing no matter what language.

Wildlife is part of the dance. A Kingfisher with his dark head and white-collar darts around clucking as if permanently irked. Raucous gulls do flyovers like the opportunistic beggars they are. Just at first light the surface of the water is broken by hundreds of unseen fish eating breakfast. The end of each dock is littered by broken shells, leftovers from feasting atop the pilings.

This new world, this water world, is a fascinating dance floor. May its charm never be broken.

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5 thoughts on “The Dance

    1. Yep! We moved in Monday afternoon and have been here since. Today we went out for our first sail and it was a little of everything. Exhilarating, terrifying, delightful, beautiful, calm, exciting… FUN!

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