The tools of the trade are frozen in the February snow.
It will be a few months before the fishers reach for this gear in preparation for the lobster season. Meanwhile, the bits and pieces await the time when the sun is higher in the sky and activity increases around the fishing shacks.
The gear is colourful against the snow which is melting around it today.
It will take more than today to melt this snow however. Yet, it doesn't matter. This gear has withstood worse as it waits to be useful again.
The lobster pots are weathered with that gray look wood attains when it has seen better days.
Some call it character. Mesh fills in the spaces where unsuspecting lobster will be imprisioned. Rope gives the traps lines of colour.
Construction of the buoys required time and effort in their day. They were the traditional markers attached to the lobster traps set in the water. Each fisher had his own colour pattern which marked his traps. Today they are used as decorations.
The traditional setting sits in anticipation as it holds the history of the people and their culture shrouded in the melting snow.
Looking beyond the surface can lead to some interesting discoveries.
We start to get anxious as February progresses. We still have much snow, but there has also been quite a bit of melting this past week.
ReplyDeleteIt would be lovely if we didn't have any more, AC.
DeleteGreat photos!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Debra.
DeleteLove the photos. Tell the story of an important industry.
ReplyDeleteIt is very important to this island, Tabor!
Deletesounds like an exciting life, as long as you are not a lobster. beautiful images - the lobster pots, lined up, brilliant!!!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Debbie! Not so good for lobsters, true!
DeleteYou remind me of my vacations in Maine.
ReplyDeleteThe lifestyle is similar to Maine in some ways for sure, Joanne.
DeleteAmazing photos, love the spots of color to be found amidst the melting snow!
ReplyDeleteI loved it too, SUI.
DeleteSame for the crab industry in Washington State, only :-) no snow. What a beautiful portrait of the lobster industry.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Celia! It is an important industry here.
DeleteI'm getting a bit fed up with winter, so I was happy to enjoy some nice weather over the last few days. But I'm sure we will get more snow before it all melts away and gives way to Spring.
ReplyDeleteIt would be nice not to have more snow. That's for sure, Shammickite.
DeleteThe colors contrasting with the snow are neat! Andrea
ReplyDeleteThere was a lot of colour in that place, in spite of the snow, Andrea.
DeleteAll that stuff is there so we can all imagine what it's like when it's warmer.
ReplyDeleteTrue, Ratty. It is glorious there in the summer. We wait...
DeleteSuch pretty pictures. I live in north Georgia, so your scenes are rare for me. Have a blessed weekend.
ReplyDeleteThank you for visiting, Mildred. Blogging brings us to places we've never been. I have never been to Georgia so your blog will take me there.
ReplyDeleteI truly enjoyed your colorful and descriptive pictures, Marie. Lobster fishermen must be a special breed. We have plenty of fishermen around here but no lobsters for them to capture. :-)
ReplyDeleteI didn't know there were no lobsters there, Jan. I take them for granted I guess!
DeleteBeautiful photos---all of them. It reminds me of some areas around here.
ReplyDeleteThe clean crisp snow is lovely, but I am starting to long to do a bit of gardening. I love crawling around in my yard among the bushes and shrubs, watching for new greenery as it starts shooting up through the soil.
In some ways it reminds me of home too, Kathleen.
DeleteIt has been mild here for a few days now and the snow is melting. However, it's too early for spring, or is it?
Always find the gear around fishing harbours fascinating (and colourful)!
ReplyDeleteIt is indeed, FG.
DeleteI love those lobster pots the surrounds of ours are all plastic. We are just about to plant up some lobster pots down in the bay. Yours would look so much more attractive. Sarah x
ReplyDeleteWe haven't gone to plastic yet, Sarah.
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