Spring was a long time coming this year.
In port-side towns winter seeped into spring and was searingly still. Well into April, wood pallets were strewn with ocean buoys, comically over-sized champagne corks, game pieces flung from a board by a frustrated Poseidon.
Vessels were cocooned in plastic and rose from still water. Color photographs taken on gray days were rendered in black and white.
The off-season’s soundtrack is muted. Tourists are in warmer climates, and it is too cold even for dog walkers to be outside for long. No bells clang from offshore when the inlets have frozen.
Walking alone I imagine animals curled into one another’s warmth in underground dens, breathing in, breathing out, until the sun beckons and glows summer gold again.