Back to the Boat ... and Back to Winter

After three weeks surrounded by bright tropical colors - turquoise water, orange birds, green plants - the contrast when we returned to Washington was overwhelming.  We thought that by the time we came home winter would be over, but the city that greeted us was monocromatic.  Everything was gray: the concrete buildings, the sky, the water.  I was glad to be home but facing a bit of reverse culture shock.  Everything seemed so ... serious.  Somber.

We were glad to be back aboard the boat, but it was still covered with white shrink-wrap, the windows blind.   And that was the first change we had to make.  We carefully marked the plastic that had done such a good job of protecting us through the winter, hoping we could use it as a pattern for the cover we'd make for the boat for the next time we were going to winter in the north.  Then, with scissors and knives, we neatly sliced it and emerged from our cozy little cocoon.  It had taken about a week's work to enclose ourselves in November, and just a few hours to shake ourselves free in the spring.

Seeing a big bright new world -- I felt kinda like this as the shrink-wrap plastic came off!

In a way I'll miss some aspects of winter -- the quiet, the camaraderie of the few hardy ones of us who remained aboard, the stark beauty of the snow and the cozy warmth of our little cabin, with a pot of soup or stew simmering on the range.  Nothing to do, nowhere to go, lots of time to ponder.

But now, there's energy around the boatyard again.  People coming and going, putting sails back on, painting.  Boats launching, the empty dock beginning to fill up again.  Time to think about getting into sailing mode.  But just when I thought it was safe, winter gave us one last hurrah:

Photo by Helen McAdory