fishing pier – Lorin Duckman Today

Ice Fishing in Vermont

I don’t do winter, well. Don’t ski. Don’t snowshoe. Don’t skate or play hockey. And I sure as hell don’t ice fish. I tried it once or twice when I lived in Salsibury, VT. My friends took me to their well appointed shack on Lake Dunmore. We drank beer, ate deer bourguignon, cooked to perfection on the site and laughed and told stories. Good friendship. But, every once in a while, we had to go check the lines. I held the flash light. Across the Lake, drivers did wheelies on the ice. We caught a few fish, little ones. The guys cleaned, cooked and ate them. Couldn’t wait to leave, though I admit I did have a good time hanging out.

BURLINGTON VT WELCOMES FALL

Burlington’s First Fall Day

New England shows its colors slowly, sometmes. This fall looks as if it will go on forever. Colors just coming out. I don’t involve myslef in reds and yellows. Send me blue greay. Matches my eyes.

Started at the fishing pier where no one catches fish. Moved to the sailor.

Went home for breakfast. Not much doing. Headed to the Water Treatment facility. Bike path quiet. People taking boats out of the water. Windy and sneaky chilly.

So, I meander down to the water to make this shot, sliding across the rocks. Totally into getting the shot, I left my I pad, phone and journal on a picnic table. A guy came buy, wondering who would leave such valuable stuff unguarded.

Evan. He had a dog. Shadow.

Recently, houseless. Ended long time relationship. We know many of the same people from the streets.

Sleepless in Burlington VT

End of Summer. Atonal kind of day. Chilly following a blast of summer. Lots of people without places to stay, wondering what will happen when the weather turns frosty. But, for today, and the last couple of days, just find a place to crash and try to relax.

Eric didn’t look like he would make it. But he has resolve. Won’t let anyone help him. It’s there when he wants it, but he doesn’t know he needs it. Not sure it will make any difference or that he will survive.

Probably want a Ben and Jerry’s, but they weren’t open.

Battery Park offers a view of the Lake and the sky. A favorite spot for Rudyard Kipling when he lived in VT.

Find a bench on the Battery. Protect your things and your skin.

Asleep in mid thought. Had a place to sleep. Dozed in public.

Near a bathroom facing the Lake. First time I felt threatened. Dogs running free. One kid said, “…, retard …, I love fucking up old men.” Not very Burlington of him, eh. I got scared and left.

Burlington Fishing Pier Fogged In

Fog stopped the sun, but not the light, from hitting the pier. The moisture filled my nostrels and dampness coated my forehead. Near the water, two people sat and looked for the lighthouse. I came late to the show. It had crept in and was leaving.

Sara and Zaira.

The Moran Building looks better when it cannot be seen so clearly. Who knows what it will become.

I left and came back. The sun returned, too, playing tricks with the water and the mountains. Always about the light. No wind. No birds. No boats. No fishermen. I always feel a little guilty when I stand alone at the end of the pier. The city built this whole pier just for me, so I can look at the world, I tell myself. Ever changing. Ever amazing. But I really want my neighbors to see it too. Lake Champlain belongs to all of us. In the summer, it will all be different.