Winter Arrives for Some

Standing on the fuel dock, filling cans with diesel for my heater, as a dozen or so Sunfish tacked to and fro, at the mouth of the Morris Canal basin and the Hudson River. As I loudly cursed my gloveless hands, aching as the wet snow melted on my skin, they filled the grey with…

When The Sails Are Stowed

There are thousands of reasons on hundreds of days that made him happy to be living on a boat. Winter, in New York, however tested him every year. He lay in the v-berth before dawn. The wind howled through the rigging while it blew snow upon the deck like tossed sand. He was bundled between a comforter…