When I was small, the photographer used to call out “Watch the birdy!”
A snazzy shot taken outside. Are these two … sisters / mothers / friends / nannies? Are they innovative? Did the kids get to pick where they sat? Did they sit in their favourite letter? The ‘O’ kid would rather get moving.
These figures are still looking out to the horizon, after more than a hundred years years. If only they could tell about the sights they’ve seen, about the people who carved them. Where did the museum find them? I must have read the signage but I can’t remember the name of their ships … the Honest Man … Pomona …. the Lucy Brown? Or ?
What a simple pleasure to see boats, all trim and sea-worthy, all different shapes, colours, sizes, and uses: waiting to gently slip away. Who owns them? Does the young man who put the pumpkins on the prow, live on board?
What was your first boat trip like?
I was three when my father took me out in a rowboat on a water reservoir at Glen Devon , Perthshire, Scotland. The boat of glossy, golden wood had a little water slopping in the bottom. The further from shore we went, the more I wanted to know how it got in. Sunlight sparkled up from the dark water. My mother waved from the edge, and was getting smaller and smaller. It was a sunny, Spring day, they told me when we reminisced, years later. Sheep with their lambs studded the hillsides: their bleating filled the soft air. As I sat in the little seat facing my dad, I clung to one side, as he made the oars rise and splash. When we got into the middle of the reservoir, I started to cry for my mother, just like a lamb. The boat turned homewards.
All text and photos by Meg.
MOHAI is by Lake Union in Seattle.
Story Twigs the Imagination! by Meg Philp is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Non Commercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.