Summer is over.

This photo of the pier near the ferry landing in Edmonds, Washington, does not give a hint that summer is over. I took this last week. Yesterday the air was clean, crisp, clear. And cool. Summer is over - at least in this neck of the woods.

I was left to my own devices all day long - not necessarily a good thing. After walking about the Alderwood Mall for several hours and buying only a monopod for my camera, I figgered it was time to head back to the home base. The restless feeling was still there, and the sun was making a beeline for the horizon, so I thought it might be time for another Mukilteo sunset.

(Do you know what a "beeline" really is? It's a straight line, taken from the observers of bees, flying from the flowers back to the hive.)

This shot (left) of the Olympic range has all those perfectly delicate pastel colors I try to recreate in my drawings but never quite master. (This was what I saw at the ferry landing when I began thinking it was time to consider something rash, like running and jumping on a departing ferry boat.)

On board the ferry heading for Whidbey Island.

OK, so grab the camera, something warm and the car keys. Amazingly enough for a Friday night, the line to the ferry was practically gone! I found a place to park and went to Ivar's and ordered a small shrimp and french fries. As I was sitting by myself, I thought, "Why don't you just get a walk-on ticket and take a ferry ride? It's a nice night, not too windy, no one has to be asked 'Can I?' and maybe you'll get some interesting shots." I went quickly to the ticket window and the fellow said "If you hurry you can get on this one, $4.10 please, and be back here by 8:30." Deal.

Arriving at Whidbey Island.

I was feeling a bit lonely and whenever I get to that place, I find if I do something for someone else, I always can bring myself back to center. Healing me, I heal others - like Reiki which works in reverse. I decided I would take some pictures to share with a particular blog friend who suffers with MM, and who has other challenges which make mine seem infinitesimal by comparison. So this story is for B, not the B belonging to Feresknit, but a B nonetheless - perhaps more of the B-line, since this individual is such a straight-shooter.

The ride over was brisk - brisk by speed standards and easily by temperature standards. The air has a bite from the north which makes the  photography especially crisp, but also nips at one's fingers like an ice puppy making a down vest very desirable.

Waiting to take the same ferry back to Mukilteo.

I loved watching the sky change color and tried to get a clear shot here, but the ferry passenger waiting spot doesn't have great views. The land mass on the horizon is Everett with the Cascade mountain range faintly seen.

Then as the ferry boat whistle blew, I went to the other side to catch this shot (below) of the pink clouds and their light on the water. Really, who could take a bad shot of sunset anyhow? As I listened to the churning of the motors below, I got that same kind of excitement I used to get when we got underway from the harbors in the South and I knew we had an adventure in store. There is a new one ahead for me.

As the ferry heads back across the Puget Sound to
Mulkilteo, the last light of the sun catches the clouds.

But traveling just 20 minutes by boat doesn't constitute the bigger one of which I speak. This was just a side trip, a break in the routine, a short diversion from the longer journey. This was just helping me get myself back on center by sharing something lovely with someone I wished could be sharing it with me... not any friend, but a special pal who listens and gives me feedback. Now that is a Friend indeed!

Arriving after sunset at Mukilteo.

As I walked off the ferry, the fellow who had to help me figure out how to scan my ticket and kept  his calm while the line handlers were impatient to let go and let the ferry get under way greeted me as if I was returning from an around-the-world adventure. "How was your trip?" he asked.

"Quite lovely," I replied. "I had a great time." His smile equalled mine. "That's great! Have a nice evening."

I held up traffic for just a second while I snapped this last shot coming off the ferry and walking toward the parking lot. It sums up my day. We cannot make shore without the beacons of our friends, guiding us toward their light, their unspoken caring pulling us into a safe harbor and calmer waters. And like lighthouses, we don't need many. 

Mukilteo Lighthouse still shines for sailors.

In a few days, I will pack my suitcases and head south - far south... back to South America for a couple of months. I will miss the turning of the leaves, the impending cool of winter. Instead I will be in 75 degrees every day for several weeks and then will come back to the absolute chill of November. Another adventure in the making. More stories to tell.

I will be sharing those travels as I have access to the Internet, so I hope you will check in now and then.