Yesterday, I went to the long-awaited Sisters of the Sea-15th Annual-Surf Contest. I had the shortest lens, of any serious photographer.
Maybe, that’s why no one saw me as serious. Maybe, that’s why every time I set up to get good shots, three or four spectators would position themselves in front of me.
This morning I had a friend send a message, informing me that there were waves. When I walked out the front door, past my fading zinnias, my eyes focused on the white rock in my yard, my nose detected that smell.
It’s a bit like the bottom of a dirty garbage can. Alright! I knew the waves were going to be better than I thought. The wind was coming out of the west, blowing the paper mill pollution across the island. Like incinerator dust blown out of a burning garbage bin.
Don’t tell anyone, the pollution here is our secret.
Come to think of it, so are the waves.
Fish Eye Farm 