As anyone who has experienced a period of boatlessness will tell you, being without one doesn’t mean you think about “yours” any less. It’s a little like phantom limb syndrome: Approaching storms make me wonder if I should add a few more lines; an early cold snap causes worry about whether I should haul out.
It’s hard not to love autumn, especially if you live in the Northeast. The fall air is crisply cool and tinged with the scent of wood smoke, but it’s still warm enough to sleep with a window cracked.
Doing what you love for a living is a great blessing, but it also has its dangers. This thought surfaces every boat show season, but a good chat with myself quickly rights the ship: Don’t overschedule. Go in with a game plan for what you want to see. Leave time to explore. These three rules have prevented what once felt like a kid’s visit to a giant candy store from becoming a marathon run down a dock-lined gauntlet.
It’s been an odd summer. I had planned to spend a few months working from Matinicus Island, Maine, but fate intervened with other less-pleasant notions. It happens, and I recognize that I’ve reached an age where it’s likely to happen more often.
I flew to Providence, Rhode Island, last week, on my way to a meeting. It was a beautiful morning, and as we descended from cruising altitude I could clearly see Jamestown to starboard. Dutch Harbor Boat Yard was peppered with boats, in full summer mode. I was surprised to feel my eyes welling.
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