So I’m not usually independently adventurous. I’ll find lots at home to keep me busy, or at least I’ll use that as an excuse. On this particular day in April, the family was all either at work or busy and I was at loose ends, so I took my Nikon 3000 and went for a drive to a community down the shore. It was a “large” day; bright sunlight, light winds, warm air. These were the moments that caught my eye.
This memorial stands at the side of the road where houses clutch onto the rocks as though perched to take flight.
Every community here is built around its churches. In this fore-yard stand various statuary, erected to do honour to those who have done honour to the community. This is but one that stands fast and looks out over the bay. By such markers did the fishers of old guide their punts and their souls to safer berths.
Wheels of cable, either steel or electrical, sit at the offshore supply base. A deep, well protected harbour never goes out of fashion. Just the materials seem to change.
As this fishing vessel guts and cleans its catch, gulls wheel and scream, fighting for scraps and gathering numbers until the boat is near invisible.
Our marine tradition flavours everything – our music and dance, our stories and science, our architecture and art. The Mermaids of Avalon are displayed in many sites, beckoning to the wayfarer, singing sailors to watery slumbers, dreaming longingly of the sea. Symbols of our history, and of our mystery.