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  • A frigid morning, northwesterly air gnawing down from Canada. The sort of pure, crisp daylight that usually interests me far less than the funkier, more compelling light around the shoulders of the day, or the light that accompanies local meteorological events.

    I looked up the neighboring harbor, into town and up into the hills behind. It all struck me as a perfectly quintessential New England scene.

    Nothing especially intellectual about this photograph, but the whole issue of faith – as opposed to “religion” - is one that fascinates me and in my mind’s eye the masts and spars speak directly to faith and to the seafaring history of the town and to our immense good fortune in living here.

    That blessing is present in my mind every day.

    If you look carefully, there are very few visual clues that this is contemporary, not a century or more ago.

    I like that.
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