The sun hung low over the horizon, casting a golden glaze across the quiet dock where a single seaplane rested like a sleeping bird. Its bright yellow fuselage stood in sharp contrast against the soft blues of the water and sky, as if it had been plucked from a dream and set gently on the lake. The surrounding trees whispered in the breeze, their reflections rippling across the mirrored surface, hinting at untold journeys and silent returns. This was a place suspended in time, where the air carried the scent of pine and adventure, and the only sound was the gentle lap of waves against weathered wood.
Inside the cabin, the pilot’s old logbook lay open, a single page fluttering with the wind—ink faded, but names and coordinates still legible. Each entry marked a memory: fish camps deep in the wilderness, emergency deliveries to remote villages, and once, a proposal over glacier-fed waters. The plane hadn’t flown in years, but it didn’t need to. Just being there, moored between sky and water, it told its story—a quiet monument to freedom, solitude, and the echo of wings brushing the clouds.
The sun hung low over the horizon, casting a golden glaze across the quiet dock where a single seaplane rested like a sleeping bird. Its bright yellow fuselage stood in sharp contrast against the soft blues of the water and sky, as if it had been plucked from a dream and set gently on the lake. The surrounding trees whispered in the breeze, their reflections rippling across the mirrored surface, hinting at untold journeys and silent returns. This was a place suspended in time, where the air carried the scent of pine and adventure, and the only sound was the gentle lap of waves against weathered wood.
Inside the cabin, the pilot’s old logbook lay open, a single page fluttering with the wind—ink faded, but names and coordinates still legible. Each entry marked a memory: fish camps deep in the wilderness, emergency deliveries to remote villages, and once, a proposal over glacier-fed waters. The plane hadn’t flown in years, but it didn’t need to. Just being there, moored between sky and water, it told its story—a quiet monument to freedom, solitude, and the echo of wings brushing the clouds.
28” x 22”
Mixed Media On Canvas
Artist: Katy Satchell
