It’s time to go. I’ve said that many times, and once again the changing season brings dreams of exploration and long summer days. I look forward to thinking of nothing (and everything) while the world moves on, mostly unnoticed.
It is time to go.
Summer is coming, our fifth on the boat, and in anticipation I’ve been fixing things that I didn’t know were broken and Sarah is eagerly gathering her art supplies.
It’s time to configure for passage mode. It’s time to stock up and fill the tanks. It’s time to attend to all the last minute stuff because we really are down to the last minute. We are feeling a desperate need to get off the dock.
Cold and stormy days can make the ache manageable. But when sunset boasts flamboyant blues and reds, we can’t help but talk of the warm summer nights we know are coming. We dream of them.
For countless generations our ancestors greeted this time of year by packing up all they own to travel far and wide. Every year they moved with the seasons. I’m guessing the genetic memory of those travels is still within many of us.
If you’re out there, bags packed and keys in your hand, you know how we are feeling, you feel it too.
It’s wanderlust, and it’s time to go.