Early last spring while driving down Route 60, I spotted this little boat tied to the shoreline. It was old and in desperate need of repair but for some reason I was drawn to it and liked what it added to the scene before me. Many times over the last few months I have stopped and checked on the little boat, during the summer with friends and on my way to other places to photograph in the autumn. I even thought about going up and shooting it this winter with snow along the banks, but something always came up or I crawled back in bed those chilly mornings. With the recent storms and all of the rain, the little boat had been on my mind, so this morning the last day of April I decided to go up and check on it. The entire way up Route 60 I noticed how the high the river was and more and more I wondered about the fate of the little boat. It was still dark when I arrived at Glen Ferris, the water here the highest I had ever seen it, as I stood and looked over the bank, my heart sank, the little boat was gone. I went back to the car and waited for sunrise, knowing the picture I had in my mind was forever gone, the fog so thick I was not even sure I would be able to see the sun or if the previous night's storms were still looming over the area. As the minutes ticked away, the darkness began to lift and along the distant shoreline something caught my eye...could it be...yes it was..the little boat! The back end under water and now full of debris, it had been swept down against the railing of an old dock. The fog lifted but the skies were still dark with the remanants that remained of the passing storm, but it did not matter, no sunrise could have been more beautiful than the sight of that little boat this morning...