It’s been a week now since our last sailing day and already I miss the wide open sky; seeing the horizon when the sun sets and rises; and living outside.
Our first day on shore saw the entire boat change. Within hours the cabins were empty of linens, mattresses, curtains, and anything else that makes them habitable – for people or for mice. The galley was a whirl of banana boxes and milk crates filled to the brim with dry goods and equipment. After two days of bee-hive like intensity, the galley is also barren of any sign that on a daily basis, all summer long, three abundant meals are produced and consumed in short order by our guests.
These changes help me recognize that our transition to shore has begun. The ending of each season brings both satisfaction and a little melancholy. The feeling of a job well done in creating a safe and happy season for our crew and our many beloved guests is strong. This is also tinged with a tiny sadness that it has again come to an end. At the same time there is more space in our days which we quickly fill up with private conversation and cozy time on the couch, riding horses, playing music, talking with family, and even cleaning the house.
What’s interesting is that I don’t pine for one place over the other. When I’m cooking on my wood stove I never yearn for my gas stove at home and when I’m at home cooking for us or catering for a crowd, I don’t wish for my wood stove. The same is true for my bunk. When I sleep on the boat, I love hearing the light lap of the ocean against the hull, the rain on the deck, and the smell of pine tar and wood. When I’m home, half the time we sleep with the window open so we can smell the fresh air and it’s luxuriant to climb into cozy sheets under a beautiful duvet and have a little space to spread out.
The settling in to either of our homes, the boat and our house, always feels like the shifting of weather seasons, sometimes there is resistance to what is coming and also a knowing that whatever we are leaving will come around again. There is also a looking forward to the new.
yonallylynn12October 16, 2017 at 12:07 pm
You are a wonderful example of grow where you are planted and love the life you lead. thanks.
athomeatseaOctober 16, 2017 at 1:06 pm
Thanks, Sweet Lady! We loved seeing you both this summer – and more than once!
Bruce BishopOctober 16, 2017 at 12:23 pm
Enjoyed following you on Facebook the past few months. Now with the season at an end your information making the transition from sea to land was interesting and informative. Thank you.
athomeatseaOctober 16, 2017 at 1:07 pm
Thanks, Bruce! Nice to connect with you here too.
The McMinnsOctober 16, 2017 at 6:38 pm
We have delighted in hearing about (from Eileen and Harold Hoffman) the adventures of a former soccer player from years past, and have enjoyed cooking and sharing recipes from one of the cookbooks. Congratulations on your past endeavors, and good luck on what is next to come in your lives….which being fellow sailors….we hope includes a bit more of life on the sea.
athomeatseaOctober 17, 2017 at 7:31 am
Thanks to you both! How fun to hear that you tried some recipes! We hope that life on the sea is in your future as well. Take good care!
Margaret M.October 17, 2017 at 1:32 pm
What a beautiful essay Annie 🙂 Welcome ashore!
athomeatseaNovember 7, 2017 at 4:15 pm
Thanks! It’s nice to be back on shore and settling in to our new land rhythm.