Stone records

I had so many choices today. It's beautifully crisp, clear and sunny, the loch is deep blue and there are a few wispy clouds. The wind, however, is cold and biting and surrounds you when the sun dims for but a moment.
There were the doors in the old pier's passenger shed, the lobster pots all lying open, the canal gates sparkling in the sun. But in the end, it was a whimsy that I choose.
In the tiny boat yard, the cobbled slipway has become a canvas for years of drops and splashes of marine paint. It is now a record, a memory, of the countless forgotten repairs and renewals.
Some things are long since forgotten, but our memories are in the marks and impressions they left behind on other things.