Harbor Head Lighthouse (and buoy)

There was never a priest to pray,
   There was never a hand to toll,
When they made me guard of the bay,
   And moored me over the shoal.
   I rock, I reel, and I roll—
My four great hammers ply—
   Could I speak or be still at the Church’s will?
(Shoal! ’Ware shoal!) Not I!


from The Bell Buoy, by Rudyard Kipling


We're a few miles inland from this buoy, but when conditions are right we can hear it loud and clear. Tonight it seemed to be calling so I headed over in the car to see what was afoot.

Various signs of the season were on display at the lighthouse. Not just the "V" of cormorants flying overhead, but the fact that of the eight states represented in the parking lot, my car was the only one with in-state plates. I felt very incognito taking photos along with everyone else and quietly slipped away before anyone fell into the ocean.