… on a last ride (until the next first)
November 02, 2022
We’re easing into late fall, light morning frosts hinting at what’s to come.
I’m pretty sure this photo was taken during our last ride on June*, as JoHn and I headed toward our friends’
house dock in Linekin Bay. Unbeknownst to us when we set out, our original plan – a foliage cruise up the Damariscotta River – would evanesce the instant I diagnosed a (very) distant fog bank along the horizon.
Fog and new boat owners are a silly combination, according to me (and quite a few others).
That day had us tripping into serendipity, as one friend’s dock (and hot cups of coffee) became two friend’s docks (and easy conversations, bejeweled with laughter).
Having now experienced the ‘Final Boat Ride of the Season’ for myself, I can tell you it is a strangely familiar feeling… a bit like waving goodbye to someones marvelous.
Nope, that wasn’t a type-o.
The someoneS are many.
Maine’s coast, taken in from the water… sights and smells, winds and waves, and creatures with fins, flippers, and scales…
Visitors from near and far, friends and strangers alike, who come to see and be in this place we are beyond grateful to call home…
The gardens in their glory seasons, now gone to pod and seed much to the joy of our winged friends…
And this boat, of course.
The talent and experience of her creators has infused her with a confidence that far exceeds my own. She is a calm and steady presence, ferrying us into a world where humans are pretty much always ‘from away’. She is, as well, a symbol – a very personal one – of continued rebirths and newnesses and learnings, in these… my… later stages of youth.
And now, fire pits give way to fireplaces. The smell of burning leaves mixes in with those of pine and saltwater. Gratitude for a season well traveled has been offered, and I turn my attention to the Now and the Coming.
Last night we were besieged with goblins and witches (along with one Scooby Doo, a smattering of fairies, several monsters, and a handful of superheroes… all these in addition to five T-Rexes (T-Rexi?) who struggled to select their treats from our candy bowl, due to their very short arms).
In a few weeks, a combination of family and friends will be talking and laughing and sharing love and thanks over a long table bedecked with turkey and heaps of fixin’s.
And then it’ll be Santa’s big show.
In and amongst all of these happenings will be life in all of its extraordinary ordinariness… and ordinary extraordinariness.
Turns out summer’s wake ain’t half bad.
Not half bad at all.
Thanks for readin’.
*June is a ‘little’ lobsterboat, based on the lines of a 1930s boat that lobstered off Metinic Island here in Maine. The original boat was the Luella B., and she did her job well into the 1960s. We were so fortunate to meet the grandsons of the man who commissioned that boat, more than ninety years ago. Their grandfather named his boat after his daughter, their mother. Our boat is June, named for our daughter, and her grandmother ❤
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