Walking early in St. Petersburg this morning, the horizon was an array of colors: gray-blue layered with rows of a pale coral and streaks of pink, sky meeting blue water with a splash of yellows and more pale pinks and oranges reflected.
I've never been here before, so it's a new sky, and in the morning quite I felt calm and detached, kind of what you want in a holiday break.
There are a few reminders 'tis the season. On one condo building I passed, the balcony railing on one unit was decorated with lights, and an inflatable reindeer decoration stood beside their deck chairs, not Hallmark Movie Christmas, but a vestige.
The birds were everywhere, more plentiful than tourists or locals, gulls on shore of multiple varieties, a few geese diving amid the waves and a couple of big birds with what I think of as heron-like features, though I'm not sure of their species.
The first I ran across tolerated my presence for a while as I snapped pictures on my phone then stepped off the sea wall and strolled away, wanting his privacy and a return to his placidity, I suppose. So it goes.
Christine says the infinity of it all is what's amazing. I suppose that's true.
There are boundaries out there somewhere across the blue water, but you can't see them from here.