(This post was written prior to Hurricane Harvey hitting Texas. Ed and I would like to pay tribute to everyone living through the devastation and trauma of such massive flooding and destruction)

It is with a hefty sprinkling of embarrassment and pinch of guilt that I am here writing my last post after failing to close out Skylark's blog in a clean, definitive way. I dropped it without ceremony or fanfare, an anemic "end" to what had been my sustenance during our cruising years. The blog deserved better. I started posting in 2011 immediately after moving onto Skylark fulltime. We heard from many of you who enjoyed following us and were always pleased to know you were out there witnessing our journey. Your support and enthusiasm was genuinely appreciated. Sometime after becoming a land dweller I posted a sort-of, sort-of-not goodbye post. But it wasn't really the last one. You knew it, I knew it; everyone who followed Skylark's blogs as faithfully as I posted them knew it. It was merely a pause button that ran its course, continuing its silence until the batteries ran dead. Pitiful. Why has it has taken me so long to write a legitimate farewell post? I have no real excuse but it felt undone, an unwritten chapter to a deserving story. I simply found it impossible to do this until Skylark found another home.

I am now ready to turn the lights out on Skylark's blog and say goodnight.
There may be no one left to read this, everyone having moved on to other blogs. If anyone is out there, perhaps you'll forgive my neglect and read one last time. At any rate, this is the end for Skylark and her family of three. A man, a woman and a dog. Three in a boat. Skylark is moving on to a new owner, a couple who will undoubtedly love and care for her in the manner to which she's been accustomed. We are saying goodbye, formally and properly with gratitude for all we've encountered and all Skylark has offered us.

What do I say in closing? I think it is simply "thank you". For the opportunity to live our dream, witness remarkable sights and meet extraordinary people (some of whom will be lifelong friends), to have learned to live simply, resourcefully, and independently. We faced insecurities, anxieties, fear, and adrenaline spikes not of the fun kind. We encountered nature as friend and foe, sometimes in the same breath. Often in the same breath. We became intimate with creatures of the sea, trees, earth. Time served itself up in packages unrecognizable from our previous lives, such as how long before a squall would clip our wings, how many minutes before a tanker crossed our bow without threat of collision, how many miles before running low on diesel, water or daylight. There were the usual cruising-on-a-sailboat questions as well, such as where to wash clothes, buy food, find the best rum (oh yeah) and whether a bright moon would guide us on a long night passage or the stars provide entertainment instead. We worked hard, played hard, and loved each other throughout, deepening our mutual respect with every challenge we faced together. Luna tolerated everything with the spirit of a good sport. What's not to love about a dog like Luna? I am proud of what we accomplished, wistful about the dreams we didn't realize, filled with admiration for the abundant skills of my captain. He was remarkably patient and responsive to my needs and I hope he would say the same about me. I believe he would. I admit to being surprised by how seldom I was afraid and how adaptable we both were when life threw obstacles in our path. Who knew? Life at sea was sometimes outside our comfort zone and yet it was instinctive, as if we were born to have an experience precisely like the one we had.

We do not look back with regret but we do look back. I hope we always do, remaining cognizant of the fact that adventures are often waiting at our feet, dreams are worthy of exploring even if not as envisioned and sacrifice is a necessary ingredient for creating what's important. The world is packed to the gills with opportunity to test our resilience and strength while surrendering the arrogant belief that we ever control nature. We can deepen our understanding of the world around us and create awe-struck moments when we realize life is an eternal supply of full-eclipse experiences that take our breath away. Because it is.

So that's it. Thank you, Skylark for taking such fine care of our little family. It's time to protect your new owners who are excited to have found you, providing them with all it takes to realize one's vision. You will never be far from our hearts.

Meet Tim and Diane, lovely people who are the new caretaker's of s/v Skylark.

New Year's resolutions are overrated if you ask me. It's not that I don't think they can be helpful in terms of taking stock of what we might be needing, or committing to doing something that is important, fun, necessary, relaxing, or different. Maybe it's simply carrying on and promising oneself to stay the course. Resolutions have never worked for me in part because I don't remember them for very long. What I am fond of, however, is to take time for a review of the old year. I want to think about what I did, what we did, what I and we wish we had done differently, what we are glad we did and what is worth preserving, modifying or adding. Which I suppose is called "making a resolution". I just don't like calling it that. A friend of mine said one New Years Eve, "Tell me what your intentions are for the new year". And somehow that sat better with me. It was a way to honor something worthy of honoring without "resolving" to do it one way or another and then feeling grossly disappointed when things didn't pan out as planned. Intentions...it's a softer landing with forgiveness when we don't follow through. And let's face it, don't we all fall a little short at times with the following through business?

My intentions for 2017? At this moment, I intend to continue what I've started since moving off Skylark; settling in, getting healthy, making time for family, finding a place where I can give of myself on a larger scale. The adjustments are sometimes huge, other times not so much. The health challenges make everything more complicated and if there's one resolution I can claim it is to take my health seriously. But that's nothing new. I did it last year and the year before that and will always do it. It isn't about the New Year. I think yesterday is not much different from today. What I intended in 2016, I continue to intend in 2017.

So Happy New Year, regardless of what you do or believe or stop doing. I hope it's a good year for you individually, and for our nation and most importantly for our world.

(Photo of Mom, Ed and Luna December 23)

Living in Maine isn't all that different from living on a sailboat.
We gear everything in our lives to the weather. We look at it daily to determine how much, how often and from which direction. We don't go outside without doing a check or at the very least seeing how cold it is. We talk to others we see in the village, in the neighborhood or at the post office about the weather. "Sure is cold out today!" "Yup, supposed to get even colder tonight". "Really? I mean, is that even possible?" "Yup, snow's coming day after tomorrow?" "Are you sure? Didn't we just get a lot of it?" "Yup, might be gettin' some more." That is when we stop believing we are still living like sailors. OK, we still look at the weather maps and make our predictions but we really aren't used to the snow. Don't get me wrong, I love snow. I don't mind the cold if I'm dressed properly. And I haven't got cabin fever as of yet. I never got it on the boat either. There's always a project to do, a book to be read, a blog to be written or a special person to reach out to. Nothing very different in this regard. But still, it's quite the initiation for us, becoming land dwellers in July with two snow storms upon us before the end of December. Like sailors, we adjust, adjust, adjust and then try to enjoy whatever it is we've adjusted to. Not very different, not really. Well, it is slightly colder than living in the tropics. There is that.

Ed, Luna and I are finally back in Maine which we are officially referring to as "home". That is a strange feeling but no stranger I suppose than what we've been doing these past 5 years. When we left our land home in NC in 2011 we had no idea where our journey would end. I like to think our journey continues with new chapters, territory and unexplored adventures and yet, there is somewhere we are planting ourselves and in that respect, the nomadic life of fulltime cruising sailors has ended. And here we are, home in Maine where it's cold, cold, cold. Where Luna says, "Are you serious?" when we try to walk her after dark, which begins at 1640 (so early!) and again says, "No really, are you serious?" when we try to walk her in the frigid morning hour. Where each time we walk her we bundle up in three layers regardless of the brevity of our time outside. It's almost a fulltime job simply dressing for what used to be a relatively easy task. On Skylark, because Luna was trained to do her business on the back deck upon command, it was never much of a chore. Oh, well, yes, there were times when it was pouring rain and we didn't want to get wet. And times when we were underway in rough seas and none of us could get to the deck, fore or aft. And there were plenty of times we didn't really want to lower the dinghy and take her ashore but felt guilty enough to make it happen when she sat wistfully staring at a sandy beach close to where we anchored. Mostly, though it wasn't such a hard task. I'm not really complaining, just pointing out this is very different from December last year when we celebrated Christmas in Honduras. It seems like a lifetime ago.

Luna wants everyone to see her black booties, which she doesn’t like wearing. She hopes someone will turn us into the ASPCA (association against cruelty to animals) but we told her to count her blessings and practice gratitude

Our time in Charlotte visiting the kids (seen here celebrating an early Christmas dinner), friends and colleagues was very satisfying and went without a hitch. Luna loved being in a home with her dog buddy Sadie and fenced-in backyard. She was in heaven visiting all her best human friends and we were all sad to say goodbye. We celebrated an early Christmas with our kids, a treat for us and then packed up the car for the 14-hour drive to Newport, RI. There we visited cruising friends Skip and Maddie (s/v Saralane) and left Luna in their care. From there we backtracked to New Haven, CT and Yale University where our nephew was performing with an improv group. 13 family members converged and enjoyed the show and time together. Back the next day to pick up our dog who believed she had been abandoned forever, arriving in Bethel, ME late that day before the snow storm hit. We are glad to be settling in (again). My health has improved after a flare up of symptoms during the first two weeks of our trip and now we hunker down for a long, cold winter. It's a long wait for Spring.

What a treat to spend a holiday with our kids, their spouses and close friends. It was the first time in many years and we were filled with thanks for many things. More on that later...