A pair of forlorn-looking picnic tables
Actually prefer the cool grey wet of an Autumn day
The quiet restfulness of the off-season
I was intrigued by the shapes, and the somber mood of the clouds, and by the reflection the unloading facilities cast on Burrard Inlet. I shot off a series of photos, hoping something would work.
In a landscape
Buffeted by winds
Battered by waves
The land and flora
Shaped, shattered,
Broken and splintered
The sandstone
Began to rise
Some 200 million
Years ago
Leaving the water to carve
An infant, a toddler
The geological child
Of a mother, Earth, 4 billion years old
Time, and Nature
In harmony
A place to hang
To eat, oh-so cheaply
Ham & Eggs & Toast & Hash Browns
Just $2.95, all day
Smoke on smoke
Thickens, on the rise
Islands and mountains
Fading, in steps of blues and tourquoise
A trickle at first
Then a torrent
Then a tumult
Until the space filled
In a thunderous storm
Feeling
very small
and finite