steady stream

Balconies are such a great vantage point. They provide a birds eye view, an unobtrusive spot to watch the drama of life unfold. Unfold or fall apart as the case may be.
A weekend at Harrison, and the glorious Saturday of sunshine had been transformed overnight into a sodden Sunday morning. Gray clouds were hunched along the gray mountains. A mist had picked up steam and the tents along the beach were beginning to flap and shudder.
The first hearty vendors of the annual Festival of the Arts began to arrive in overstuffed vans.
I noticed a woman beginning her 'assault on Everest.' What a daunting task; shuffling folding tables and myriad boxes from the yawning maw of her van over to the rock wall along the beach, and then up and over and away to the tent.
I noticed with relief and interest that she had a helper this time. A daughter, blithe and bonny.
The girl was dressed optimistically in a bathing suit covered with a billowing white dress. A pink shrug was a bright spot in the gray morning drizzle.
It wasn't long before the shrug had been pulled up over her head as she scuttled back and forth between the van and the rock wall.
Her gauzy dress began to lose its billow.
And then...... where was she.......oh, yes, there in the van, hunkered down in the front seat while her mother continued to grimly unpack and set up.
When she emerged moments later to help with set up, her dress and hair were plastered to her tiny form. Her shrug seemed inconsequential.
And then, like watching a movie on rewind, the mother and daughter un-setup, repacked their van and departed. Only a space in the row of tents remained, like a missing tooth.
It wasn't long before other vendors with moisture sensitive wares and moisture sensitive souls, departed in a steady stream towards home, and we took a number and got in line.