I am working by the sea.  The gulls fly in the currents above me and the eagles call to each other over the din of concrete trucks, pile drivers and jack hammers. Tug boats and commercial fishing boats turn through the water, a highway of commerce for the hardened North Pacific sea farer.

It has taken a month for my body to strengthen to moving lumber and concrete form work and it has taken me a month to grow accustomed to this ever raining climate.  Today the rain fell sideways while the wind blew so hard that I was thrown off my feet.  My five woolen shirts and rain jacket were sodden and my gum boots filled with water as my damp woollen long underwear drained into my boots. Today was September 9th and I didn’t know how I would survive a winter when I was already so wet and cold walking the frayed edges of summer.

I work with a humble man.  A guy who eases into the back ground and observes.  Someone who's skill and keen intelligence is left unnoticed until you draw him out like ray of sun through a storm.   In my depth of undoing today, I turned to him and said, "I don't know how I am going to survive this weather".  In that moment, he changed my view of the wild ocean.  He made me fall so deeply in love with the sea.  He said, "this is the ocean at her best.  I love the Pacific when she is wild like this.”  And then I saw what he saw.  The gulls unfathombly catching the drafts through torrents of rain.  The sighs and heaves of an untameable force.