Day after day deep blue colours the sky. Patches of gold, red, and orange glow among our mostly green forests. This October is one to mark. Just a fraction of our normal rain fell, as golden day followed golden day. There's a change coming, though. These are our last few sunny days, according to the weather forecast. It seemed appropriate to make the most of the flat seas and warm temperature and plan a boating trip as a finale to the season.
Quite frankly, I was reluctant. I was tired from a long week of teaching my own classes plus covering for another teacher during my spares. On Thursday evening a colleague and I took the ferry to Vancouver for a professional development conference on Friday. We returned Friday night and I wanted nothing more than to spend the next day quietly at home. However, the trip was planned, our friends ready to join us, and so I went. I'm so very glad I did.
In spite of a misty chilly morning, we set out on the glassy water, I had a cup of tea, and chatted while we watched the sun slowly emerge and burn away the mist. My friend said that her grandmother always told her that a "patch of blue large enough to make a Dutchman's pants" was the sign of a sunny day. I've never heard that expression before, have you?
We tied up at Port Browning on Pender Island after passing through the narrow channel and under a bridge. By then the sea sparkled with diamonds.
A bald eagle watched our approach from a tall tree at water's edge. In a nearby apple tree, a pileated woodpecker hammered away. We ate lunch at the pub with views overlooking the water. The day was much too pleasant for being indoors and so we ate on the patio, warm and toasty as can be. I even got a faint sun burn.
After lunch we walked along the beach where a few derelict boats have washed up. Derelict vessels are a hot topic around these parts. No one claims them and the jurisdiction around who is responsible for their removal is a moving target.
As we chugged homeward, the horizon changed to pale pink and distant islands became shrouded in mist.
Ernest Dowson's words seemed appropriate for such a magical day:
Pale amber sunlight falls across
The reddening October trees
That hardly sway before a breeze
As soft as summer: Summer's loss
Seems little, dear! on days like these.
A gulp of cormorants (isn't that a great collective noun) grabbed the last bits of sunshine as they perched on a chunky bit in the water. We arrived home replete with sunshine, laughter, and the company of good friends. I'm glad I overcame my reluctance and enjoyed such a fine day. Do you have similar experiences? Hesitation followed by immense delight?
Linking with Mosaic Monday, hosted by Maggie of Normandy Life.