A bolt strikes the water oh so close to and brings me out of my fantasy be-headings. I discovered recently that I am an astraphobic. So is Ginger. We both suffer from the fear of lightening. Giant zippers of electricity are running along the clouds and brightening the sea around us like high noon. The occasional prayer-evoking bolt feels like it stops my heart. What was I thinking? The radar screen shows us in the middle of a giant red blob of nastiness.
We awake (not enough) hours later to the sound of ferries over-weighed with festive tourists, their waterline is now an underwater line. The scruffy looking vessels roll precariously in the aftermath of stormy seas, but the passengers are celebrating and wave to us. The sun peeks through cotton ball clouds and there is steam rising from the damp teak of our cockpit settee. This inner harbor is run down and suffers the effects of years of neglect, but it is a safe harbor for some very tired travelers. I hear the cluck cluck cluck of our stow-away. We first heard it yesterday, a soft chuckle, a few little chirps, then more insistent barking. I narrowed the sound down to the mizzen. Do we have a chicken in the mizzen? Perhaps a miniature monkey? I peeled back the sail cover to reveal a frog. A 4" green tree frog that seems to have mistaken our mizzen for a tree, stowing-away at some point along the way. I suppose we'll have to find him a new home soon, but his cluck is adorable and soon I am dreaming of Amazon forests and chickens in the mizzen.