My late brother used to take out his yellow legal pad deep into a New England January and prepare for summer by making a list of "Things to Do" with respect to his boat. As any boat owner knows, there are always things to do with your boat.
My cousin, Dickie, made these two boats and sent them to me out of the blue over the past four years. Twice in these past four years, I heard "thump" of a package left near my front door and went out to see a long thin package propped up against the door.
They are 27 inches long with a 7 inch beam and are, as you can see, more than beautiful. They are wooden and, sometimes, when I am unsure of where the day is going or what I am supposed to do with a day's worth of energy, I lean down and smell these boats. They smell like summer. Like salt air. They smell of endless summer days of leaving the cove and returning with the tide. My childhood. My father. My favorite uncle, Dan (Dickie's father). My Brother. All gone now but embedded in the art and craft of these gifts.
How do I say, "thank you"?
