Artwork by Gail Bradshaw
Sailing our small boat through the Gulf Islands on an August night, guided by the stars, the moon, and the green and red flashing beacons marking the distant shoals, from each small island we pass, the Summer wind carries the warm fragrance of cedar, arbutus, and fir, vanilla leaf, yerba buena, and dry moss. Slipping silently past granite and orchard, point and cove, cliffs and forest, seals watching, owls calling, we breathe in the powerful perfume caught by the mainsail, spilling down to the berths below, where the children sleep, rocked by the Salish Sea, dreaming of cats and kittens and home.