This orange dusk the ocean seems to slow, to take its rest. It is as if the confining shores have been pushed apart some allowing more space and relief from the day's roil. The dots of white on its surface seem fewer, farther apart. The thickening sea is darker but somehow more welcoming as the sun falls behind the cedars to the west. Both the water’s and its color temperatures fall. The small boats and their sure-footed sailors respond of the calm, drink in hand, with the resolve of ants at an August picnic. The tiny ferry comes about as she sails from her landing as if to look on the stillness in admiration. In this moment, the churning, churlish Salish Sea is no more.
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