There is an old adage that we Mainahs go by; "If you don't like Maine weather, wait a minute."
Southerlies in the mornings, N-NE in the afternoon, dead calm by 7:00 for a tranquil night with the Mrs. and a glass of cool Merlot. Morning brings a light breeze with a playful mist dancing over the bay. The slow rumble-thump of the lobsterman returning from his rounds builds as he approaches and passes, a halo of gulls above the stern, sparing for the next scrap. From below, the smell of Foldger's wafts up, along with sausage and eggs. Your mate, joins you in the brisk dawn, a Bean's blanket wrapped tight and her hair looking tussled and unbrushed, but never more beautiful than at this moment. A seal, glides to the surface 5 yards astern and snorts lightly. After a few seconds of silent admiration, he lifts his chin and glides back into the inky water without a ripple, without a sound.
The weatherman predicts a S-SE wind at 14 knots so you, tidy up and get ready to make way. Next destination already set, you weigh anchor
at 8:30, and motor out with red on the left. At 5:30, you're motoring into the harbor, a man calls from the dock "Take 317, red over white. I'm not using it tonight." so you find the mooring and hook up just as the wind dies, and the water becomes tranquil. The fish begin to jump so the ospreys spring from their perches and begin their ballet, pirouette and dive, swing and strike. One finds victory in an unlucky pollack and struggles to gain altitude, clearing the cockpit, and you, by a meager five feet. Supper, done, you rinse the Penne and add the chicken Alfredo. Upon request you give a hand and open the offending bottle of Savignon-Blanc. Fine food, a beautiful mate and snowy egrets fishing in the reeds.
Is there any other place to be?