Fog horns calling out forlornly piercing the thick fog that blankets Isabella Point at day break awakens me. Early morning water is as smooth as glass – not a ripple. A small fire in the wood stove provides heat for the day … at times forcing us to open the door to let cool air back in.

The otter visits us daily, once coming within a few feet of shore. He seems curiously interested in checking us out. The seagulls sing their medleys as the deer eat their way across the yard.  The evening heavens bear promise of sun tomorrow.

It’s been a cool, cloudy abd rainy vacation, not my favorite. The glimpses of sun have made it even more precious. I never tire sitting here watching the water – still the same view as last year yet continually shifting – always singular.