Well not the Bay actually, but a tidewater creek. I'm working my way up to Fredericksburg for a board meeting and have landed in Cobb's Creek, VA for some time with the Mom in law. Could be worse.
I'm sitting near the steps down to a dock watching fish jump, gulls pester things, and ospreys fly around. There are a few crab lines set out but I didn't see them get checked this morning so the waterman must only come by every few days this time of year.
In this creek estuary, you don't need a weather report to know when a storm is coming because it will fill up with sailing yachts well before anything threatens to hit. Some of the boats are beautiful but they just seem to sit there, getting cleaned and varnished. One has folks living on it, which is against the rules, and the boat squatters also have an electric cord run to a vacant dock slip so they can steal power, which is against the law.
The home owner's association is all in an uproar, which they usually are anyway but this time they have a reason. The folks causing the problem don't seem to care. I guess they'll poach their electricity and space until someone runs them off and the they'll go poach somewhere else.
There are old houses spread out along the water here, and trees, and flag poles. Last time I was here all the flagpoles had American flags at the top. This morning only two of them are flying the colors and one of those has a Confederate flag just below the stars and stripes...
Nothing quite says, "Hey, Yall, Lookit' the bigot!" like the Stars and Bars.
As a child of the deep South, nothing surprises me in this regard, but I wish I could take away the fear that runs that flag up the pole. That fear comes from the same place that the fear of "terrists" comes from, and it serves certain powerful people very well. Oddly, though, that fear ultimately cripples those people who fly the flags of fear, whether that flag is just below the Stars and Stripes on a pole in the yard, or worn on a bumper as a "Fight 'em over there" sticker next to a yellow ribbon.