The trappings of winter are long gone and we’ve once again answered the call of the sea.
Farewell, dear winter. First, we’ll say goodbye to your endlessly cold weeks and months that transformed our world into black and white. Goodbye to your monochrome landscapes and the requisite heavy layers that accompany your own personal brand of deep freeze. Let’s skip the rest of this goodbye because we’re just so glad to see you go.
Next, as we usher in warm weather we’ll bring forth a saucy anonymous postcard that I appreciate greatly but did not create. I prefer a bit more subtlety when describing my lifestyle to others. A little potty mouth in small doses, however, does quite nicely convey enthusiasm when simple punctuation won’t do.
Today’s glimpse into our liveaboard life isn’t a story that begins with I can’t wait to tell you what happened the time we… Rather, today I’d like to share a few sideways glances into our floating life during the times when the excitement of the sea is happening far out at sea and we’re tucked into a sheltered anchorage.
Between moments of excitement, moments of dog walking, and moments of folding laundry, Charles is accumulating mile after offshore mile with sailboat deliveries to the islands and New England by way of Bermuda. I’m sailing closer to home on a new little surprise we picked up along the way (keep scrolling to meet Yoshi).
Occasionally I bake lavishly and in a few weeks, I’ll share my take on this extravagance, apple pie style, courtesy of another glossy published article with a recipe in between the photos of my petite kitchen on the water. Lastly, when I’m not baking, sailing, or writing for Tiny House Magazine, I’m consumed by a personal writing project that started small but grows and flourishes with every word I write. Does that mean I’m cheating on this blog?
Resuming today’s glimpse into our liveaboard life, today’s tale o’ the sea happened during a pretty good sailing trip without much action. We sailed, we ate, we had coffee and wine. Trying to jazz that up means lots of exciting and possibly misleading adjectives as well as a click bait title reminiscent of “We Tried Sailing and You’ll Never Believe What Happened.” There’s no jazz here and you’ll completely believe what happened but please keep reading anyway!
During the pretty good sailing trip without much action, we navigated under a bridge and raced a cargo ship. After we won the race because the cargo ship was probably going on another direction on serious international business, we dropped anchor and took the dinghy toward an uninhabited island for a dog walk. When land is in sight, a patch of fake potty grass on the bow will never do.
Everyone loves a dog in a life jacket but any self-respecting dog in a life jacket will tell you they prefer long walks on the beach to a life jacket any day of the week.
We took the dinghy to the beach twice a day because during these times the hours stretch out from sunrise to sunset with not much on the agenda. There’s no need for a timetable when the sun traveling across the sky is your only clock, and reading, meals, and dog walks are the sole items on the to-do list. Yes, even in the sea of milk and honey, a change of scenery is sometimes appreciated.
My grandmother used to read us a poem written in 1885 called “Little Orpahnt Annie.” In Annie’s world, she offers us a fair warning about what happens as the sun sets: Gobble-uns’ll git you Ef you Don’t Watch Out! I’ll include the full text at the end and you can share it with the spooky children in your life if you’re so inclined to induce nightmares and answer questions about why they talked like that in 1885.
In our floating world, when the sun sets on secluded anchorages and we’re the only light for miles around, the goblins all have ballpoint pens. Sometimes they make lists of boat chores and sometimes they draw family portraits on their husband’s toes. Please don’t tell Sylvie she looks like a cat!
We have boat projects coming out the wazoo, and by wazoo I mean that it feels like we’ll never be able to complete them all. We rarely sit by idly and the days when the paragraphs above are absolutely true are few and far between. On those rare occasions when the rising and setting sun is our only timekeeper we put the wazoo aside, enjoy every blissful moment, and hope that we’ve taken enough photos to make something enjoyable enough to share with you.
Surprise! We’re pleased to announce that we’ve adopted a baby sailboat named Yoshi! Yoshi is a 24′ 1979 Precision Seaforth and we believe there are less than six of her model left on the water. We live aboard our 36′ sailboat and it isn’t always easy to take our entire house out for a quick afternoon jaunt so we added a petite and light vessel like Yoshi who sails well in almost any wind. Yoshi is easy enough to handle that I hope to take her out solo by the end of the summer, and by solo, I mean Charles will be doing the heavy lifting under my direction. I’m the captain now!
Yoshi is almost 40 years old so we’re in the process of sprucing her up and once we’ve had a few adventures aboard, we’ll share a tiny little tour later in the season.
Thank you so much for reading and joining us on this non-adventure. I look forward to your comments and questions soon.
“Spring flew swiftly by, and summer came; and if the village had been beautiful at first, it was now in the full glow and luxuriance of its richness.” -C. Dickens, Oliver Twist
Little Orphant Annie by James Whitcomb Riley, 1885
Little Orphant Annie’s come to our house to stay,
An’ wash the cups an’ saucers up, an’ brush the crumbs away,
An’ shoo the chickens off the porch, an’ dust the hearth, an’ sweep,
An’ make the fire, an’ bake the bread, an’ earn her board-an’-keep;
An’ all us other children, when the supper-things is done,
We set around the kitchen fire an’ has the mostest fun
A-list’nin’ to the witch-tales ‘at Annie tells about,
An’ the Gobble-uns ‘at gits you
Wunst they wuz a little boy wouldn’t say his prayers,–
An’ when he went to bed at night, away up-stairs,
His Mammy heerd him holler, an’ his Daddy heerd him bawl,
An’ when they turn’t the kivvers down, he wuzn’t there at all!
An’ they seeked him in the rafter-room, an’ cubby-hole, an’ press,
An’ seeked him up the chimbly-flue, an’ ever’-wheres, I guess;
But all they ever found wuz thist his pants an’ roundabout:–
An’ the Gobble-uns ‘at gits you
An’ one time a little girl ‘ud allus laugh an’ grin,
An’ make fun of ever’ one, an’ all her blood-an’-kin;
An’ wunst, when they was “company,” an’ ole folks wuz there,
She mocked ’em an’ shocked ’em, an’ said she didn’t care!
An’ thist as she kicked her heels, an’ turn’t to run an’ hide,
They wuz two great big Black Things a-standin’ by her side,
An’ they snatched her through the ceilin’ ‘fore she knowed what she’s about!
An’ the Gobble-uns ‘at gits you
An’ little Orphant Annie says, when the blaze is blue,
An’ the lamp-wick sputters, an’ the wind goes woo-oo!
An’ you hear the crickets quit, an’ the moon is gray,
An’ the lightnin’-bugs in dew is all squenched away,–
You better mind yer parunts, an’ yer teachurs fond an’ dear,
An’ churish them ‘at loves you, an’ dry the orphant’s tear,
An’ he’p the pore an’ needy ones ‘at clusters all about,
Er the Gobble-uns ‘at gits you