silver water, pink sky

pink sky at morn, sailors forlorn
pink sky at night, sailors delight

my mom taught me this on my grandfather's boat as part of my nautical education, along with what the little triangular flags mean and when to blow the ship's horn so the bridge would open in time (along with why we couldn't blow it all the time even though we really, really wanted to). indeed it's been raining all day, as the dawn sky predicted, bone chilling ceaseless icy downpour. but very early when i woke up briefly the rain hadn't started yet - the rising sun made the puffy clouds cotton candy pink and the mist on the water pink too, moving slowly up the river on the incoming tide like a fairy tale or magical dreamscape.

two huge brown birds out there scoping things out. i didn't get to the binoculars in time but one flew right by the house so i got a closer look. sadly the brown booby, though the right size, had to be ruled out since it's a bird of the tropics. and the parasitic jaeger is too small but isn't that also a fabulous name? it's come down to immature bald eagles which are enormous but still all brown, or female or immature male northern harriers - also called marsh hawks - obvious inhabitants for this place but maybe too small. at the moment i'm going with eagles.

my mother also taught me basic meteorology:
rain rain go away
come again some other day
little mary wants to play
outside, outside