My three-year-old grandson visited the houseboat yesterday.  Though he had no idea what a houseboat was before he arrived, he had created one at home with chairs, a table, and a blanket.  He’s definitely impressed with the “real thing”, as am I.  

We’ve had rain and wind so it’s been interesting to be here, with the creaking rhythm of the dock adjusting to the tides, and the variety of birds who seem to handle the weather with such ease. I watch them, wanting to do the same.

Today the dock was so slippery with ice I felt I was ice-skating even though I was wearing rubber-soled shoes.  I met a woman who had just fallen.  Perhaps because of the weather, I rarely see anyone though I know from the number of cars that people are here.

The boat goes up and down and rocks as do I.   I never realized how much the ducks bob down into the water and disappear and then pop back up in a new place.  Perhaps I do the same.  For now, a gentle rocking as I balance land and sea, doing and being, in and out.