The promise of summer

Rain is coming straight down. There is not a breath of breeze. It is so quiet that you can hear the drops upon the wooden deck. It was not so this morning. Quiet, clear skies, not a breath of breeze, and a mirror of a lake. No lapping of waves, just the rivulets emptying and then filling the front cove. A perfect day for a sail, eh? Well, as it turned out, there came a breeze from the Southwest bringing warm humid air that swung around to the North and began to build. It was time to launch the SunFish, and so I did. Tacking furiously out of Mare Nostrum I achieved the rumpled water of Little Pike Bay, heeling hard to Port and hiking out to Starboard we flew, tension on the mainsheet, entertaining just a hint of luff in the sail. Lots of pressure on the sheet, I remembered I should have taken my sailing gloves. And then, dark ominous clouds in the South. Pillars of rain shown light against the darkening background. I came about and headed in, although there was still gentle puffs of white clouds overhead, and a sun beating down upon my skin, burning my skin; but the clouds were coming, the rain was coming, thunder and lightening were coming. No time for another exhilarating run into deeper waters. Time to run in, wind ahead of rain, moor and wrap the sail tightly so that it would not flap in the storm. Back at home, safe and sound. The wind has gone, and, as I write, the lake is once again a mirror, not even ripples. Mini rivulets resume their ebb and flow in our front cove.

Bounty was launched yesterday. The barometric pressure was high, the seas calm and a run out into the open water was inviting. The lure to the water was mitigated by my deliberate planning of each step, engine position, spark plugs, new

tubing for the gas cans, petcock closed, and then she was launched. She ran like a top. I headed out, past the shoaling waters into the deep blues, the engine now purring, achieving a new state of perfection, almost a quietude. In coming back from a Purgatory Cove visit, I sped through the South shoal finding the deep slot of water on my way home.

The first picture is sunset, oil on water, the oranges and purples of evening. Silence. You can hear yourself think