It was another foggy morning heading out of Bucks Harbor. No wind, flat calm, silent except for the drone of our engine.
A light breeze began to release its fingers across our bow. And then as if too shy, it would draw them back, afraid to commit it seemed. But very very slowly the fingers gently morphed into hands, arms and eventually completed itself. We quietly raised our main and popped the jib, afraid we might scare this delicate breeze away. The engine was released and we began our whisper across the silver mirror spread out before us, our dinghy quietly gurgling behind.
There were no other boats about. Fog gradually gave way and the southern horizon lit up against the gray clouds over its head. It was too magical for words, impossible to depict this gift of a few hours of otherworldly beauty and grace.
IPad sketch
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