Antigua: Stuck at A Dock

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.

Our task?

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…

play later.

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

deemed essential.

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

just be,

to watch the nightly crimson

sunset out our back porch perch

on the sea.

Things could be worse, for sure…