The other day we ate lunch outside in the sun and all agreed it was one of the nicest days ever. I think that’s because in September we never know how long the late summer sun will linger. We enjoy each warm bright day with extra pleasure, because it might be the last time we can wear sneakers with no socks, or a short-sleeve shirt outside. Knowing winter is just around the corner seems to make the sun brighter.
The same thing goes for fall sails. Each time I rig Frolic and take her out into the bay, I savor the gurgle of water along the hull, the gentle shaking of the wind in the sails and creak of the spars as though I am hearing them for the last time in a very long while. Perhaps if I breathe in really deeply I can pull into my head and heart the color of the deep blue sky, dark green mountains, rippling ocean, and the dusky pink glow of my sails filtering the sunlight. If I’m lucky they will stay there long enough to sustain me through the cold months of winter — like extra special spiritual vitamins.
Today as I watched the sun reflect on the bay out my office window I decided to leave early to go sailing, because you never know how much longer this will last. Frolic and I headed out in the late afternoon with the schooners. In less than 15 minutes we were out in the bay, sailing past the bright white lighthouse on Curtis Island and beating towards the Graves. I thought of my father who loved doing stuff like this and my husband who persuaded me to buy and restore Frolic. Thankyou.
I turned back just as the already light wind heaved its last sighs and stranded Frolic and me at the entrance to the harbor. Two guys sailing a pinky schooner just downwind hauled in their sails and picked up speed. They would get home before dark, thanks to an engine.
I have an electric engine down below, but do not know how to use it (That’s always been John’s department. It may be time to learn for myself). But my long oar worked fine as a paddle and with a bit of effort it got me to my mooring, just in time to watch the sky turn pink and dress the harbor with its glow. Once ashore (where I had to pull my rowboat across the beach and then up on the dock thanks to the extra low tide), I watched the full harvest moon rise over the bay, emerging from the land in a blaze of orange almost as bright as the sun that just set.
Bring on the cold weather. I’m stocking up on my September sailing vitamins.
