The rain and wind stopped some time ago. Upon its cessation the fog did not creep in but descended from above. The hilltop clouds were kept in place by the wind and the upward force of falling rain. Once over, the dense cloud dropped. In a matter of seconds little of the harbor was visible. The temperature fell 5 degrees and we hunkered down.
Hours went by with no change. We had lunch, read and eventually I lit the salon’s propane fireplace. After a few chores Charlotte napped while I sat below trying to stay interested in a book about lobstering which had begun to discuss lobster anatomy.
This type of writing by Melville or the less accomplished author of my book is doomed to failure. If I had not trained myself, over decades of intense study, to never pass over a paragraph without understanding it, I too would be napping.
The wind shifted a bit from the South to the Southeast. The fog moved on, blue sky appeared, and a warm breeze filled in. I shaded my eyes from the sun. Opened the pilothouse doors. Then went outside to chamois off the boat.
Distant streaks of clouds headed Downeast. As the sunlight sparkles on the harbor’s blue water, we contemplated the shore. A walk to stretch our legs. The only impediment is to decide to put the dinghy in the water or to call channel 66 for the tender service to pick us up. It is only three in the afternoon, so there is no pressure to rush this decision.
I may sit in the pilothouse, watch the various craft come and go, and let my mind wander until dinner time . . . Let’s see, what should I cook.
NE Habor, MDI, Maine
...you could go back to crayons....
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