Riding the winds of life

Today we had a fun afternoon sailing with John and my Mom! The wind was perfect. We ate cheese and salami and drank beer and chatted about the day when they’ll come sail with us on our boat in a far away tropical place.

We’ve offically gone as far north as we plan to go and tomorrow we start our journey south. I miss the ocean so much and can’t wait to surf again. We’re sad to leave though. But we’ll have one more chance to hook up with my Mom and John next month. We’re going to all meet up in San Francisco to sail on the bay in early August. In the mean time, we’ve got a lot of coastline to explore in Washington as we poke our way south.
Over and out. TREE

Comments

  1. Wow! What a perfect day for sailing. At least down here in Seattle the weather wow perfect. Can't wait to see you tomorrow. I've got your Apple appt all set up!

  2. angela/mom says:

    Oh how I will miss you! But we will see you again in August, and that makes this just a "temporary" goodbye. Here's a "sailing poem" to get you on your way. . .

    I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
    Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
    And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
    And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

    I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
    To the gull's way and the whale's way, where the wind's like a whetted knife;
    And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
    And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.

    John Masefield

    You are always in my heart, Beloved Ones.
    mom

  3. angela/mom says:

    Oh how I will miss you! But we will see you again in August, and that makes this just a "temporary" goodbye. Here's a "sailing poem" to get you on your way. . .

    I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
    Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
    And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
    And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

    I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
    To the gull's way and the whale's way, where the wind's like a whetted knife;
    And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
    And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.

    John Masefield

    You are always in my heart, Beloved Ones.
    mom

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