There’s a moment sailors call slack tide. When the tide is neither coming in nor going out, and the water is perfectly still. It’s a moment frozen in time, when all is calm and peaceful. The only downside to it is that it passes so quickly. As much as we might like things to be suspended in time, they never are.
Mariners and fishermen have more detailed and scientific explanations of slack tides, but the version I learned as child is the one I’ve internalized and refuse to release. I must admit the south side of Chicago and spring smelt runs are unlikely places to learn about tides and slack water, but that’s where I first heard of them. I thought of slack tides today while walking through Old Town, Florence. Like many others, I’m pulled like iron to a magnet by the strength and serenity of water and Continue reading “Slack Tide”