Yep, that’s where we are,
longing to be anchored out
where the boat always finds the cooling wind
and not the teasing drafts that play about
our wrong-angled tie-up to the dock and invite
the dawn and twilight mosies fresh from their
on-shore lairs to find
their fresh blood meals.
But, it is warm and sensuous to feel the breeze
play about our bodies as we sit out in the cockpit,
watching the endless activities of humans, birds and
the occasional surface-splashing fish, all busy with
their consuming task of living,
each in their own way
and we in ours too.
Finishing up a few more weeks
the big and little jobs
to make our floating home quite livable,
ready for some adventures beyond
just the daily necessities of life,
the necessities we all have
regardless of where we live.
At least, that’s the plan—but the price to pay is work now…
And that’s why we’re at the dock,
to be accessed easily by
those skilled in the trades that make
these watercraft function—and stay that way.
New sails, and an easy means to furl them
so the wind provides free locomotion,
mast pulled out and stuck back in—with corrosion-locked parts
separated and new ones installed.
Anchor windlass gave up the ghost, new one installed so we can
plant our claim to new waterfront property.
New solar panels off the stern and new seawater-filtering membrane for
the watermaker to put us off grid for energy and water.
And as backup, generator refurbished for those days
the sun doesn’t shine as much as needed.
And the list goes on.
All homeowners, and gardeners in particular,
are familiar with the list that seems endless but
somehow gets done,
or forgotten, or no longer
Ours for this little venture just happens to be
for something that floats.
Other than that, not much different.
So, we look forward to finishing these lists
and making new ones of
a more enticing nature.
Such as an Antiguan afternoon taken, rented car, winding
1½ lane wide Old Road, through lush over-arching
flowering branches, along coast-lined colorful
plain village houses and beaches tucked
between cliffs, hills and sea.
Following the road to Jolly Harbour,
(I kid you not)
once private estate,
now expanded, public,
between expat retirement,
middle class and poverty.
A pretty, convenient
place to drop the hook and
to watch the nightly crimson
sunset out our back porch perch
on the sea.
Things could be worse, for sure…