28th January, 2026

Seasons

“To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.”

Ecclesiastes 3.1

Tuesday, January 26, 2026

My morning ritual is having coffee or tea in the cockpit. It is my quiet time. A time when I commune with nature. When I listen to my internal voice. It is a space I hold dear to my heart.

I watch as a beautiful great egret sits at the end of the dock. Her body cowers a bit, as if she is cold. Wisps of her pure white feathers blow in the breeze. Her yellow beak turns from left to right. Searching? Maybe for food. Or maybe just alert to her environment. She stretches her neck. It is long and slender. Whatever she noticed, she seems to lose interest just as quickly. She tucks her neck back into her chest.

A brown pelican joins her on the opposite side of the dock. They sit a mere two feet across from one another. Two different species sharing the same area peacefully. It might be prudent to learn from them.

I have named the pelican Agape. He visits often. He doesn’t stay long today. I watch as he flies away to seek out another spot to perch.

I think I will call the great egret Grace. That seems appropriate. She moves; she flies so gracefully. What an amazing creation.

I look away for an instant and she is gone. There is no sight of her in the sky or anywhere I look. She just disappeared. Like an illusion. Like all of life. Here only in the here and now.

Today is the day we were planning to head south. Only something came up with the batteries, so we are in a holding pattern.

We are in the later years of our life, and I can physically feel the shift. I feel it in the way my body aches when I get out of bed in the morning. I feel it when I tire more easily. I feel it when I have trouble opening up a bottle. My hands are weak from arthritis. These are not complaints. I am observing.

I see it in Jay too. The stress of fixing the boat wears on him. It is not as much fun as it used to be. Particularly when things don’t go well.

Cadenza is in her later years too. Built in Tawain in 1979, she is now 47 years old. Last year she started showing her age. First her gooseneck broke. Next the bobstay turnbuckle broke. These are strong pieces of hardware. Signs Cadenza needed some attention.

Then, during the summer, our rigger put his hand through the bottom of our wooden mast. Not good. Big trouble now. Off to the boatyard she went. While she was there, it was discovered that our teak deck was compromised due to water intrusion. All things considered, this would be a huge investment. Do we spend the money? Or do we call it?

“I’m not ready to give it up,” I told Jay. Nor was he. Besides, if, or when, the time comes to sell Cadenza, we need her in good shape.

Three months later, we brought her back to the slip with two new aluminum masts, two new aluminum booms (because if you have an aluminum mast, you can’t have a wooden boom), and an entire new fiberglass deck. But the work was far from finished.

Jay has spent the last two months putting Cadenza back together. The electric wasn’t connected. A huge job that got done with the expertise of our friend Andy Barrow. The propane needed to be rerouted. The rigging wasn’t quite right. The fuel needed to be polished. The anchors weren’t attached. The dinghy had to be brought back and connected to the davits. And on and on.

Last week we took her out for a test sail. The engine purred. The anchor and windless worked enabling us to enjoy a nice lunch off a small cove in Banderas Bay. We put up three of our four sails: the genoa, the main and our new mizzen. She sailed across the water at 6.5 knots, gently riding the waves. I sat on the bow with the wind rushing through my hair and the warm sun on my face. The movement was seductive, meditative.  Whale spouts rose in the distance, announcing their arrival. It was perfect. Magical. With all things working, we knew we were ready to sail south.

We started our prep. We checked the weather and tides. We provisioned. We set a date.

But it’s a boat! It seems there are always issues. This time it is the batteries and the one person in town we know who can help us is down with the stomach flu. And so, we wait.

As I sit here, I can’t help but reflect on all the signs that point to changing seasons. Our changing seasons. Is it time to let go? Move on? When does one know when it is time?

I watch as Grace flies by effortlessly and ask myself… How do we flow gracefully with the seasons? That is the question.