Beach girl

Upon arrival at Poplar Bluff, Brenna slips at earliest opportunity to the shore with her companion, but the golden retriever returns early, alone. I have to allow time before dinner to go searching. She drifts to the glowing western distance where sand is broadest. Saturday evening I saw her figure scrounging to and fro, but lake and sky roared through the space between us, drowning my call. Finally I sustained her name on a single note and she turned, waving a tiny arm.

Waiting, I stood and surveyed the turbulent boundary between earth and water. Exquisite light fell like a herald of peace. I had neglected to take my camera.

However, over the weekend I recorded two of Erie's other moods. Sunday's warm sun raised an eerie mist, blended all substance, veiled the seam between air and water, and turned wandering figures to wraiths.

Monday's wind whipped the lake to a lion, tearing the beach. We departed the house and travelled east under a sunny sky, but an ominous barrier cloud overtook us. I didn't hear about tornado warnings until today.

It was always Brenna and I. She collected pailfuls of bottles, beach glass, shells, odd stones and fishing lures.



Sunday fog


( Monday )

Three more images are posted in weather_pics.
One image is posted in texture.