The Marina

This will be an easy, quiet posting today. I am waiting for the rain to stop so I can take Foxy to the Marina. Hey, it's stopped!  This will be short.

My husband and I used to take our two chihuahuas to the Marina. We went to several different parks around CV like "June Bug" (on May Bud st.) but the Marina was the most pleasant and there we would meet the Dog Club.

The Dog Club was what we called a rather largish group of people who took their dogs every day and would at some point relax and converse for a while.  We met some nice people. When my husband became more ill, and when the dogs died, we did not go any more so it's only recently since having Foxy that I've started going again.  The old Dog Club are gone, meeting somewhere else perhaps, but I have met quite a few nice folks en passant as we struggled with our animals. An ironworker, a plumber, two grandmas, several younger women including one interesting out of work living in her car girl whom I 've not seen since. Pleasant to talk to them all; they are all interesting.

But I really go to the Marina for the sky. More than the water, it's the sky that draws me there.  It's huge, and has a guaranteed larger accumulation of clouds when the weather is like this than any other place in town. Wonderful to see. On the clear bright blue days, it is lovely too, uncannily silent in the noontime suspension of workaday matters.  We walk and look.

I sometimes go in the afternoon when there's a busy morning; in fact of late I have gone more in the afternoon than any other time.
Fewer chatty people, more quiet and space. It's strange. There are always a number of cars, parked, each with one person in them. Are they seeking solitude? Listening to the silence? Getting away from it all? Waiting for someone? You always wonder.

If you wait too late, the sun sets and you are treated to a time of glory which often is unbelieveably lovely. But it isn't the place for one little lady with one little dog, so I do not linger.  After dark the Marina changes its mood very subtly. It is more sinister in tone, not comfortable. Some men told me that (other) men bring big fierce dogs and let them roam in the dusk when no one will stop them. Probably true, altogether believeable. I don't stay even for sunset any more. Too prudent, but--that's life.