Remnants of the River - Grand Haven Pilings in Fog

Two weathered dock pilings emerge from the still surface of the Grand River, their worn cables draped like relics of a forgotten industry. Shrouded in morning fog, the scene feels both suspended and timeless - a quiet testament to the river’s working past, when lumber, grain, and coal once moved steadily along these waters toward Lake Michigan.

The Grand River, Michigan’s longest, has carried centuries of history along its bends - from Anishinaabe trade routes to the lumber boom of the 19th century, and later, to the quiet recreational stillness of today. What remains here are traces: softened wood, rusted steel, and reflections too faint to tell where water ends and air begins.

The muted tones and gentle diffusion of light transform decay into poetry. The lily pads drift at the foot of the pilings, nature’s quiet reclamation, while the fog wraps the scene in introspective calm. It is an image of endurance and transience, where the industrial past dissolves gracefully into the stillness of the present.