A story about my Grandfather

Some time ago, I did a post about my grandfather, who was a Newfoundland fisherman.  I thought of him again yesterday, when I saw this seal at the Mosquito Creek Marina.  I always feel a rush of adrenalin when I see mammals in the water, and this seal, basking in the sun, amidst golden streaks of light, just made my day.  My mother always told me that when the cod catch for the season wasn't enough to keep the family over the long winter, my grandfather would have to supplement his income with seal pelts.  When it comes down to feed your family, or let them starve, you do what you have to do.  She said the seals cried actual tears when they saw the clubs, and that made my grandfather cry.  Because of that memory, she always felt upset when she saw the protests about seal hunts.  I believed those protests were necessary, but learned not to argue her point.  I have come, over the years, to appreciate that my life has never forced me to make the choices my grandfather faced.    

Mali came by as I was taking the pictures.  We biked just a short distance together.  I knew she was nervous to be biking with me.  I think, in many ways, she suffered more trauma witnessing my accident, than I did.  We both enjoyed the seal moment, though.  We commented later that the camera allowed us to see this fellow's whiskers, something we couldn't see with the naked eye.
I keep my own cup at school, and find that Thomas Haas lattes look beautiful in it.  Yesterday, this one seemed especially perfect.
I was quite late leaving school yesterday, so the peak of the sunset had passed.  I enjoyed these tranquil images from the Lions Gate, just before dark.