It’s easy to be spoiled by the visually voluptuous sight of ocean, isles and brilliant sun, stretching endlessly beyond Children’s. It’s easy—especially after this gorgeous summer of nearly perfect weather – to think of anything less as gloomy. This morning Paulie and I struck out in classic “gloom” with worsening wind off our beam and finally light rain. But there was nothing gloomy about it. Maybe that’s one of the fineries of ocean rowing – that the sky is always so present, that even with a grey pallor; if you watch it long enough, initial flatness will reveal subtleties of the most interesting kind. So we pulled and watched the skyward narrative.
The plot down to Beverly formed as a hedge of high, dark wisps skided toward us in the shape of a mare’s tail, then passed bringing rain. But it was a nice, cooling drench, especially as we headed back from the lighthouse, pushing ourselves for a two-mile, uptide run that on a sunny, August day would have left us covered in sweat. This was much nicer, much sweeter. By the time we reached Brown’s Island, my eyes had adjusted to small differences of shade and color that made me regret leaving my camera in the car. On the dock, we didn’t need to comment about how great it had been to be in the currents, wind and waves under a delicate sky. So we mostly just smiled and didn’t talk, putting our boats away— sort of the norm these varying fall days at Rock and Row.
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