It's A Little Bit Funny

April showers bring may flowers and all kinds of twitterpated critters. Our Alberg 35, Mystic, has been sitting on her winter cradle, wrapped up since last September. In April, we visited the marina in Marinette Wisconsin to begin the annual launch process which starts with removing the winter cover.

As luck would have it, a pair of unidentified feathered friends built a sturdy nest inside the folds of our bowsprit cover and laid two tiny eggs for us to find. Unfortunately, the nest fell 10 feet to the ground when the cover was removed.

Finding a Nest at Nestegg Marine again

Two years ago we found a pair of Doves nesting on our cradle. We just couldn't bear to move them so we delayed launching until the babies hatched and fledged. Marina staff and our dock neighbors admired our compassion but thought we were a bit crazy.

Dove family on our cradle in 2022

Last year we found a busy pair of starlings setting up house-keeping inside our boom just before our launch. They hadn't laid eggs yet so we evicted them with a clear conscience.

Our dock neighbor, Ric Mellon, thinks we have such incredibly positive energy that critters are drawn to us and everything we touch. That is a sweet and thoughtful perspective, but, after three years with the the same spring experience, I can't help wondering if it has more to do with the place we spend our summers, NESTEGG Marine. It's possible there is a reason they named this place Nestegg. Instead of getting annoyed, we chuckle. It IS a little bit funny.

In spite of our intruders, launch day 2024 is set for May 10. We are ready for summer on the water where an eagle soars over us and fishes in the river near our slip. Killdeer nest in our parking lot. Geese outnumber humans on Stephenson Island. There will be more birds, nests and babies, including turtle hatchlings, to entertain us this summer. We look forward to it all!

Mystic ready for launch

Tiny wayward turtle

Headed back to the river

My Mother's Final Journey

Jacklyn May Chapman Dailey
June 12, 1939 - April 8, 2024

I called her mom, or Nonnie, or sometimes Nonnie-Noodles. Each name was an endearment for the person who brought me into this world. I was her 3rd child in three years. She was tired when I came along. She never let me forget that she gained 60 pounds over the 9 months she carried me. 

I was a clumsy, chubby child but she said I was just big boned and when I fell down she called me Graceful Gladys or Grace for short. She'd say, "pick yourself up and dust yourself off", then she'd send me on my way as though nothing had ever happened. She taught me to get back up.

I have vivid memories of her taking my tiny toddler hand as we walked down a long series of metal steps that led to the beach we visited each summer day. I was afraid of heights and begged her to carry me but she insisted that I could do it myself if only I held her hand in mine.

One of the books that she read to us when we were little was I love you Forever by Robert Munsch. She'd line us kids up on the couch beside her, and read to us as we listened intently. When I became a mom, I read this book to my own children and found myself singing, rather than reading, the refrain, "I love you forever, I like you for always, as long as I'm living my baby you'll be". At first I didn't know where my sing-song way of reading these words came from. But the memory of her voice drifted in from the past and I shared it with my own children in the same way it was shared with me, as a melody.

My mother was a simple person born into the silent generation. She put everyone else's needs in front of her own. As a homemaker, she supported her family in all our endeavors. She filled her free time with tea, her children and friends, and yarn. She crocheted beautiful granny square blankets with perfectly consistent stitches and gave away everything she ever made. With little extra money available, she sewed many of our clothes. She followed us to our sports events, welcomed our friends into our home and taught us right from wrong in her own simple terms. 

She shared worldly philosophy with us, like, "everyone is pink on the inside". She expressed compassion for the underdog, and passed on this trait to her children and grandchildren. She never forgot her humble beginnings as one of 15 siblings and understood that wealth was not measured by your wallet. She always looked at the bright side and almost never held a grudge. When someone didn't approve of her she'd say, "They'll get over it!"

My mother didn't put on airs or compete for attention or favors. She was a take it or leave it kind of gal. She saw the good in most everyone but saw through those who carried evil in their hearts. She taught us to be careful what we wished for; and pointed out that things can always be worse, so we should count our blessings even when times got tough. When we did something stupid she'd ask, "Did you learn something?" She downplayed all of our challenges and insisted that everything would work out in the end as long as our intentions were good and we didn't give up. She reminded us often that she wasn't born yesterday, and helped us work through inconsequential choices by pointing out the answer was six of one, half dozen of the other.  In essence, she taught us everything we needed to know. 

Nonnie lived by the rules of common sense and the belief that if the good Lord is willing and the creek don't rise, she would see you again. She insisted that if we didn't have anything nice to say, we shouldn't say anything at all. When dementia stole her ability to carry a conversation, I could always count on a quick response from her like, "Well that's the important thing, or "If it's not one thing, it's another."

My mother signed every card she sent with "Love Always Mom" or "Love Always Nonnie", and she ended our phone conversations with "I love you more!" As she aged, she slowed down a little each year. Her health was never great but she forged on with courage and determination after each setback. At times, she'd get confused and have trouble with balance, but she knew that I would catch her when she stumbled if she let me hold her hand in mine. 

Mom lived with my younger sister, her fourth child, for the last years of her life. She was a part of everything our family did. All of our friends and our children's friends, coworkers, coaches, neighbors, everyone called her Nonnie. I'm not even certain they knew her name was Jackie. She was just Nonnie to all.

My mother outlived all of her closest friends. She sat quietly beside each one as they worked their way through the end of life process. Our 92 year old uncle passed away in November. He had become mom's best friend. Mom called to let me know that he was in hospice. When I responded with great sadness she said "Don't you be sad, he's just acting his age." There was no one left to hold Mom's hand, outside of our family when her time came, but there were a whole lot of loving arms waiting for her arrival in heaven.

I cannot fathom a world without her in it but I cherish and will follow the lessons she burned into me like tattoos on my soul. I am a product of my memories and experiences that started with and always come back to her. As she leaned toward eternity I sang to her these words by Robert Munsch; I love you forever, I'll like you for always. As long as I'm living my mommy you'll be.

My mom left us on April 8, 2024 while the moon and the sun came together to wow the world with a moment of darkness followed by the return of light during a total solar eclipse. She slipped away without fanfare or fuss, in her own quiet way. 

Nonnie aboard S/V Mystic 2021

The New Girl

In 2012, our son adopted a pup from the pound. She was a mutt that looked like a pincher with big floppy beagle ears. He named her Jess and when I asked him why, he said, "Because she's the new girl", like the TV show with the same name.

David with Jess

We didn't really want a dog but our son needed her. She quickly became his best friend and wiggled herself into our lives with her sweet disposition. We took her on long walks where she dragged us along with  exuberance. Eventually we bought her a chest harness in order to have a better chance at keeping up with her. She was naughty on the leash, lunging at humans and other dogs that we passed. Jess was very food motivated so I learned to carry treats to distract her. Soon all the neighborhood dogs knew me as the treat lady and would stop and sit politely for a chance at a snack.

Jess curled up with Beth

Jess lived in our home for six years until our son bought a house a few blocks away. We visited often and I made sure her treat drawer was stocked. She had her own fenced backyard so the walks were replaced with romps in the grass. 

Recently, Jess moved back in with us while our son prepared his home to be sold. She slid right back into her old routine of cuddling in our bed and following our heels closely all day long. After a few days I noticed that something wasn't quite right. It was -20 degrees outside but she would squat for a full minute or more during potty time. I checked her pee to find that it was pink indicating blood in her urine. Thinking she had a UTI, we made a vet appointment but her condition declined quickly. We took her to a emergency vet who knew right away that things were more serious. 

We were devastated to learn that Jess was beyond care. Instead of a treatable infection, she had cancer. There was little that could be done to improve her condition. What she needed was compassion. Our son made the decision to help Jess move from pain to peace. It was the right thing but it hurt like hell.

Heaven has a new girl now. I imagine Jess exploring her new world, with her nose to the ground, collecting all those wonderful smells that she hunted on our walks. 

Gentle Jess

We miss her so much, but we know that our grief is the price of having loved and been loved by the purest soul. Our life was made so much better for having her in our family for her lifetime. 

You were a good girl Jess! We'll never forget you!

Jess in her favorite spot

The Last Chapter

Christmas is upon us and 2023 is coming to an end. Each December we get lost in the hustle and bustle of the holidays, then suddenly it's January of a new year. December is the last chapter, the epilogue.

We wrap up the previous twelve months with holiday festivities, spend more money than we planned and stress about that more than we hoped. But, somehow, in all the chaos, we begin to plan for the new year to be better than the last. As we turn the final page of 2023 we resolve to let go of what has passed and engage in what is to come, optimistic and excited to begin painting our clean slate. Somehow, the first chapter is filled hope.

Happy New Year 2024

Remembering Avery May

On Thanksgiving, we decorate our Christmas tree with lights then hang sailboats and lighthouses, mini cross-stitch projects and special trinkets that we collected over the years. We have one handmade ornament that has hung on our tree each year since 2019. It was made from salt dough cut into a butterfly shape then stamped in pink and purple pastel. On the back it reads: Avery May 2019

I made several of these delicate ornaments after our beautiful great-niece, Avery May Silva, passed away at two years and four months of age. She was born with Epidermolysis Bullosa, a rare and deadly genetic skin disease with no cure. Children born with this disease are referred to as Butterfly Babies because their skin is as fragile as the wings of a butterfly. Avery’s short life was difficult, but she was surrounded by love and she is missed tremendously.

The holidays can be heart-wrenching for anyone who has lost a loved one. We try to find ways to include those we’ve loved and lost into our celebrations. Sometimes their memory brings us warm fuzzies, and other times they make us cry. Our tears are the price of having loved and been loved by someone special. 

We think of Avery often throughout the year. She was a special little girl who lived her life as large as she could. We will never forget her gorgeous big blue eyes, her courage and the sound of her squeals of laughter. Somehow, in spite of her condition, Avery found and shared joy!

Happy Holidays in Heaven sweet baby girl!

The Season of Planning

Once our boat is out of the water and wrapped up under her cover for the winter, we begin the season of planning. Midwest winters are long and cold! There is plenty of time to think about launching in the spring and the adventures that will unfold next cruising season. Planning makes our dreams seem tangible.

We were blessed with a visit from our sailing friends Dan and Nena Mooney in October. We spent a lot of time with them this summer; our two boats moving together along the panhandle of Green Bay. We had a great time buddy boating together, even on the days spent navigating side rollers and foul weather. We are planning a six week trip to the Georgian Bay next year.

Dan and Nena drove up from Oklahoma, making a detour to Minnesota before moving on to their destination in Egg Harbor, Door County. The weekend before their arrival was unseasonably warm but the day before their visit the temperature dropped and a big wind knocked down many of our leaves. This changed our world from beautiful fall colors to barren winter. In spite of the chill in the air, we spent a lot of time hiking with them during their stay. We visited the Taylor's Falls pot holes and the Franconia Sculpture Garden. We hiked in William O'Brien and Afton State Parks. We spent a morning at Como Zoo in the warm and tropical rain forest. We put in a lot of miles in three days but our greatest accomplishment was confirming our accommodations for a spring Rim to Rim hike of the Grand Canyon. This has been on our list of adventures for some time. The Mooney's have agreed to join us.

Hiking Taylors Falls 

View at O'Brien State Park

Fall Colors at O'Brien State Park

The fire tower at Franconia Sculpture Park

Dan and Nena at the top

Como Zoo Turtle

Como Zoo Tortoise

Como Zoo Sloth Chloe

Dan & Nena Afton State Park

Sailors in the off season hiking Afton State Park

Dave & Dan checking out the weather conditions

Dave and I have been trying to plan this hike for some time but have never quite firmed up the details required to make it happen. Once Dan and Nena showed an interest in joining us, the plans came together in one morning. We are not new to long hikes. Dave and I have run 13 marathons and have done a lot of day hiking throughout our travels in the US. Dan has hiked portions of the Appalachian Trail and Nena hiked the Camino Trail in Spain. I don't think stamina will be an issue. For me, it will be the heights. My greatest fear is the narrow trails with massive drops only feet away. Nena thinks that the south Bright Angel Trail out of the canyon may be more challenging than the short segments of drop offs. We both know that each section of the Rim to Rim hike will challenge us in it's own way, kind of like sailing does. Nena reminds me that we won't face anything alone. We've got each others back just like we did while cruising.

Wrapping Up Summer 2023

It's late September and we are preparing Mystic for winter haul out. The weather has been warm, giving us a taste of Indian Summer and making our last few days at the dock pleasant. The rain that we've missed for months is making up for lost time and waking up the flora that has been dry and brown all summer. Life at Nestegg is becoming more and more quiet. Folks only stop by on the weekends. Saturday night bon fires with our Stephenson Island dock mates are a common thing; as we hang onto summer as long as we can. 

Beth and Dave
Photo by Ric Mellon

Sharing Sailing Stories
Photo by Ric Mellon

Each time we visit, we empty more and more from Mystic's lockers and drawers. Our scheduled haul out date was on September 28th but we ended up coming out of the water on the 27th. As Mystic was raised high in the hoist we watched as the operator pitched her bow forward placing her in a dive-like position. Our hearts missed a beat at the sight of it. We'd never seen her slip into the cradle quite like that before. It was unnerving until her stern gently lowered back to level.

Mystic in dive position 

Balanced on her cradle

Winter storage line up

Once Mystic was settled on her cradle and lined up in the row of sailboats already on the hard, we gathered our kayaks and paddles and carried them home along with another truckload of gear. We will return one last time to wrap her up in her winter cover. It's a bittersweet time of year for us. We'll miss life living aboard our Alberg 35 on the Menomonee River but will fill the long winter months with planning for next year's adventures.

We returned to Nestegg early in October under stormy skies that chased us and teased us with scattered showers for the entire 5 hour trip. We found Mystic tucked between two larger boats that seem to be protecting her under their wings. It was far too windy to start installing the cover. Tired and hungry, we went to Brothers Three for their Friday fish dinner, our last one of the season.

The temp dropped dramatically into the 40's overnight but we have small electric heaters and a heating blanket that make overnight stays bearable. The winds were still howling in the morning. Reluctantly, we started the process of installing the cover in spite of how difficult we knew it would be. I stayed on deck and added each of the three cover segments while Dave tied temporary lines so the whole thing didn't soar off to Kansas! Each year, things go more smoothly for us. This year was no exception although it did take us longer than usual. After a day of hard labor we had the cover secured neatly except for the aft section which is designed as a back door entry for us to come and go from. Exhausted, we grabbed a pizza at Ellie's then headed off to bed early. Someone had a roaring fire going on Stephenson Island but we retired for the night.

Sunday morning we woke to a chilly 55 degree cabin. The outside temp was in the 30's. We had packed the coffee pot so we quickly dressed and went to grab a cup of coffee then took a ride around Marinette/Menomonee with the heat and the seat warmers set on high. Dave noticed a cargo ship coming in off the bay, led by and followed by tugs. We drove over the Ogden Street Bridge and parked at Menekaunee Park then hustled to the bridge to watch the Pacific Fortitude be escorted up the river and through the bridge. At 139 meters long with a 20 foot draft, Pacific Fortitude is a big girl. She is taller than the deck of the Ogden Street Bascule Bridge in the open position. Traffic was stopped for about 20 minutes. It was a treat to observe this miracle of navigation.

It took another couple hours to get all our bedding and last minute gear off of the boat. Dave tied the aft section while I shoved our gear in every little corner of our small car. She was all wrapped up by 10:00 am. It's always sad to walk away from her; withdrawal kicks in immediately!

Under the cover and out of the wind

Sailboat Row

Beth inspecting our hard work

Ready for winter