One of the unexpected joys of living in Savannah’s Historic District, just a couple of blocks from the mighty Savannah River, has been regularly seeing (and hearing) the massive cargo and container ships making their way into our busy port.
The Port of Savannah, the nation’s third largest seaport, is special because the ships leave the Atlantic Ocean, navigate their way inland about 15 miles to downtown Savannah, and pass directly in front of our busiest tourist strip on River Street …
It’s always fun to be on a walk along the river when a huge ship comes into view and watch the shell-shocked tourists gaping at the ships’ sizes.
Here’s a short video from last year when the largest container ship EVER came to Savannah.
And here are a few random shots of ships Robert and I have enjoyed seeing as we walked along the river.
Just the other night …
Others …
But, perhaps somewhat weirdly, the greatest Ship Joy of all to me is SOUND.
Robert and I will be in bed (most commonly with HR peacefully asleep and me slowly, slowly heading in that direction). But all of a sudden I will hear it. And perk up. Sometimes even sit up.
From a few blocks away, down on the river. The night ships. The sonorous, plaintive, somehow both exuberant and unexplainably sad horn, sounding from the ship, finally, finally making its way, exhausted, from who knows where into our little city … and past the sleepy little dwelling of Neal and HR.
Listen …
And somehow, that sound, time and time again, makes me realize that we can get from Where We Are … to Where We Need to Be. To a port of rest, to a place of quiet. To a place of, at least temporarily, no more movement.
And I sleep.
NealEnJoy 