All our friends start to yawn, start to tire,
“Is it time to go home?” they inquire.
In the Vero Beach scene,
Nine o’clock seems to mean,
“It is midnight, put out the bonfire.”
It’s a well-known fact that “midnight” in Vero Beach refers to nine o’clock. By that definition, we stayed out until “two am,” enjoying a bonfire and sharing stories with friends on a deserted island. Then we put out the fire, were towed back to the marina, rowed back to Flutterby in the moonlight, and we still rang in the new year aboard our own boat!
“Oh, these masts are such pretty, tall things,
I will sit here and dry off my wings,”
But a cormorant’s big,
When he sits on our rig,
Unaware of the chaos he brings.
We broke off conversation, mid-word,
When such banging and thumping was heard,
And we ran up on deck,
But all’s clear — what the heck?
Then we looked up. “Hey! Scram, you dumb bird!”
We were down below when the sound reverberated throughout the boat. We were sure that either a) another boat had collided with us or b) our anchor was dragging. But it was just an effect of the hollow mizzen mast carrying the sound down to us!
We are doing some rigging today,
And then we will get underway,
Of north winds and sail,
Downwind to my Dad’s house — hooray!
These south winds are perfect for motoring today, but tweaking the rigging and waiting for northerlies is more fun. In the meantime, here’s another picture taken by Traveling Soul yesterday.
What we needed to fill was the role
Of photographer: That was our goal
Then along came a yacht
And they took this fine shot
Of our sails. Thank you, Traveling Soul!
12-23-2012 UPDATE: The guest limericks just keep pouring in. Do you have one for us?
12-19-2012 UPDATE: Make that three guest limericks!
Two guest limericks, from opposite corners of the USA, were inspired by the news that Flutterby is now sailing!
This one comes from x x, also known as Kevin Keane. In 2010, he shed his own precious blood to help us launch Flutterby:
I wish I could write a good Limerick
not a poem, but truly a Limerick
but try as i might
I can’t get it right
I can’t find a word rhymes with Limerick
Here’s one from Pat McNeely, who wants to paint Flutterby’s portrait (Columbia, South Carolina):
When Hank told me about your fine rig,
I almost danced a big jig,
It’s finished, Hank said,
As he went off to bed
Saying sailing’s your favorite gig.
This comes from Roger, of Jo Hee (Key West):
Let go of that nasty ol funk
Put all the tools in the trunk
Cause this is the day
You two sail away
On your just-completed junk!
And this one is from Limerick Nick, of Valkyrie (Seattle):
The sailing is your happy spot
After so many bad days of not
Barry fixed the frigging
Messed-up old rigging
Now Meps thinks he’s totally hot!
Though the weather was cloudy and gray,
On the thirteenth, that red-letter day,
All our friends round the world,
Heard our sails were unfurled,
And they joined us in shouting, “HOORAY!”
All the beautiful flutterbies take
Margaret’s breath away, crossing her wake!
In Sapelo Sound,
Dozens fly all around,
Do they know they’re our sailboat’s namesake?
When I woke up, the boat was pitch-black,
And I thought we were under attack,
You have gotten my goose!
Now I’m calling a truce…
Go away and be quiet, Aflac.
Marine Propulsion, the boatyard where we are moored near Charleston, South Carolina, is home to a personable but extremely loud grey goose named Aflac. He came by to wake us up at first light yesterday morning. First, he floated next to the boat and kind of chuckled. When that didn’t get attention, he pulled out the big guns. My goodness, that bird is LOUD!
The Flutterby yes it will splash
After a copious infusion of cash
The Meps and the Barry
Will sail her (hail Mary!)
As she takes on a seaworthy dash.
This one is a guest limerick from Blender Boy Nick. As a fellow sailor, he knows just what it takes to get a boat off jackstands and into the water! Thanks, Nick, for your understanding of the situation.
I know that it’s still only May,
But a tropical storm’s on her way.
For the engine to fail
On the eve of a gale
Would indicate, this ain’t my day.