Our Lucky Day

Above, a Harlequin Duck floats on a serene sea.

This past Friday we had a break from the cloud cover so I headed up to Blaine, a town right next to our border with Canada. Blaine faces a bay that is partly enclosed by a narrow spit that extends north from the mainland for about a mile. This peninsula is named Semiahmoo Spit, and it is often a great place to see birds.

After I parked the car, I walked over to the sheltered side of the spit and began photographing the beautiful Pintails and Greater Scaups that were close to shore:

The ducks moved away as I drew close, but after a while they settled down and approached the beach again:

Pintails are the epitome of elegance. Here, a pair of preening males look as though they are performing a dance, and with the females close by, perhaps they are:

There was not the slightest breeze. The ripples on the surface of the bay were caused by the ducks alone.

On the seaward side of the spit, this luminous vista was waiting:

The sea and sky melted into one. Only the reflections and a few swimming birds indicated the surface of the water.

At the marina near the end of the spit, the masts of the boats shone against the clouds:

Beyond the floating fuel dock, a volcano, Mount Baker, rises in the background cloaked under a thick layer of snow and ice:

I met a woman at this spot who explained some of the history of the place. She then remarked on the beauty before us, and we stood for a moment, enjoying the peaceful scene.

“It’s so calm,” I said.

“We’re lucky to have this day,” she said.

I agreed with her, and after wishing each other well, we parted ways. I headed back down the spit toward the parking lot, pausing to visit with these marvelous Harlequin Ducks:

My memory of meeting a thoughtful, appreciative stranger melts into the stream of experience, like the sky melting into the sea, but her words stay with me.

Thanks for reading, and may you be well.


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