With sunny skies and temps in the 50s, Thursday seemed as good a day as any for an afternoon hike.

So it was on with the hiking boots, the camera and my notebook, and off to nearby Mackworth Island.

A gregarious Tom and his dog Hunter greets me at the gate, reminds me of the 5PM closing time and waves me over to the parking area. I've been here a hundred times, but why argue, so I smiled and happily did what I was told.

On the path joggers cruise past, as did a healthy handful of walkers. I seem to be the only person making the circuit clockwise. Hmmm. Always going against the grain, it seems I am. Oh well. At least this way I get to see people's faces and exchange smiles and hellos.

The sun casts the pines in a warm orange glow. Long afternoon shadows cross my path. Ice chunks cling to to the shoreline at the high tide mark.

Several sets of stairs lead down to the rocks and beaches. I scamper down each and poke around. More ice. Golden sea grass. Yellow lichen on a rock. Sea birds groan just offshore.

I come to Percival Baxter's dog graveyard, a circular enclosure of rocks, down a short side trail over a soft carpet underneath tall pines.

"To my Irish setters," the bronze plaque begins, "Life long friends and companions, affectionate, faithful and loyal."

Crap. Who isn't broken up a little after reading that?

The names of Baxter's canine pals,"Skip, Carry, Deke, Mike, Pat, Fanny, Eirie, Carry," are listed.

I think of my precious cat Attila.

Then I shuffle on, passing a few folks who are now making their second circuit.

The stacks on Cousin Island come into view. And The Brothers, two small islands in the foreground. Then Great Diamond Island, Fort Gorges, the Eastern Promenade of Portland.

I linger for a while on the granite pier and take in, at once, the island and city views. It's no damn wonder I live here, I think for at least the thousandth time.

The sun is low and flowing through the trees and into my face as I round the far side of Mackworth, past the Baxter School and the ball fields. The parking lot is full when I reach it minutes later. It's just 5 when I drive past the gate and out over the long causeway, the setting sun on my left shoulder.

Supper time. Mud on my boots and filled with fresh ocean air, I feel good.

Mackworth Island is partially Maine Public Reserve Land.

Tom and his dog Hunter greet island visitors.

Walkers on the Mackworth path.

Sun on the trees along the path.

Clam shell in the leaves.

Stairs leading down to the sea.

Lichen provides a splash of color to this mid-February day.

A resting spot along the path.

A tribute to Baxter's canine companions.

One a several beaches accessible from the Mackworth path.

A bench with a heckuva view.

Late afternoon sun pouring through the trees.