Why Our Humble Gifts Matter

It’s been one month since we sold our catamaran, Lady Grey. But it almost didn't happen.

Our buyers had sold their boat, packed and moved from Greece to USA to purchase Lady Grey. But after pulling Lady Grey out of the water, her underside wasn't looking as pristine as they wanted. We made small talk and tried to find a way forward. The beers were chilling in Lady Grey’s fridge for what we had hoped would be our final toast and goodbye.

We were all growing weary. Already that day Dale and Finn had sailed eight hours for the test sail across the Chesapeake (from Norfolk, VA to Cape Charles). Every minute of the last eight hours, Lady Grey had been scrutinized. I had been the wheels, following the sailors with our newly acquired truck and U-Haul trailer (with all our packed bags) an hour across the Chesapeake bridge to Cape Charles to provide moral support. I do not like driving trucks with trailers through underwater tunnels. We had all brought our best to this sale, but it looked like it was souring.

I looked over to Lady Grey, suspended by slings, her copper patina belly exposed. Stalemated, both our families were also suspended.

If this sale had officially soured, then we would have to put Lady Grey back in the water, move aboard again and sail her up to Annapolis to try for another buyer pool. The buyers, a family of four, waited around the dock, virtually homeless. Both of our families stuck at Cape Charles Marina on the Chesapeake, frustrated, tired and disappointed.

With the sun growing lower in the sky, the marina staff leaving, our buyers were also exhausted. They were obviously not moving aboard Lady Grey. The buyers’ two children were showing symptoms of the flu that their father had been fighting for the last week. Their eyes telegraphed the stress the adults were all feeling. They had no place to sleep for the night.

Watching my own sons’ growing discomfort as the two hours stretched to four, my husband patiently trying to find a compromise, I felt stuck. I couldn’t truly feel that Lady Grey was my boat anymore, she had the buyer’s bags in every room, opened manuals and parts across her counters.

But I decided to climb the ladder at the base of Lady Grey to offer what I could.
​
I pulled out one of the pots that had served me so well across the Atlantic. I dug out some stores I had left for this new family and began making food.

I worked nervously (was this their kitchen, or mine?) the negotiation-anxiety pumping through me, rushing to start the pressure cooker but dropping it onto the handrail, denting its pristine side. I was relieved it still worked when I plugged it in. Rice steaming, I warmed up some of the last cans of lentil stew from South Africa. I added some sesame oil and rice vinegar and called everyone aboard, passing out the steaming bowls.

Days later, Dale told me the moment the food came out the tensions broke. Dale husbanded a generous compromise, while I served food. As we finished our bowls, Dale and the new owners were working on signing papers.

As we shared bowls of soup and rice, the mother and I struck up a conversation about home schooling. She pointed out her favorite moments of boat life and nodded over to my nine-year-old and her fourteen-year-old working on a Sudoku puzzle. Our conversation turned from financial negotiations to mothering concerns of sailing life. Soon after eating, she and Dale climbed down the ladder exiting the still dangling Lady Grey to find a witness to seal the deal.

Lady Grey was no longer ours.

I am not strong at financial negotiations. I don’t like haggling or changing plans halfway through the deal. But, I could use my life mission of connecting vulnerabilities to joy. I knew how to transform fear and homelessness to joy and satisfaction. I knew that one place we could all connect… a warm meal. As I stacked bowls in the sink, I faced the reality that this wasn’t my sink any longer. I popped open the grapefruit Hefeweizen and poured the celebration toast.

The joy of reaching our goals, the joy of a meal together, the joy of starting a new season all united in that final clink of glasses.

New Paintings

Reflecting on the power of hunger and satisfaction, inspired by this final meal on Lady Grey, I created a new series “Satisfaction” with bread, wine and chocolate as my subject. I am delighted to share that you are the first to see these new paintings.

I give you "Humble Gifts", "Gifts of the Rhône Valley", and "Perfect Pairing" all 11 x 15". Each priced at $2000.

Should you be interested in purchasing, I accept PayPal, personal check, Wise, or bank wire.

​

Family News

As I write this Finn is preparing for his first regatta on Lake Winnepesaukee. Ollie is planning to visit the two kittens we hope to bring home in five weeks. And we are all enjoying land for our hobbies to garden, shoot some hoops, play laser tag, and fix up our century-old home.

You can see the jewel of our new-old home in these pictures: a three-story barn. We have hopes to hold events in this space, but for now, as we face the slow work of clearing and cleaning, wall-paper stripping and painting, we are noticing the things around us. In this barn we’ve found rooms designed for feeding animals, old troughs and farm equipment, artifacts from a hundred years of life. Our boys are learning to paint and wallpaper their rooms. And we are all finding new friends.

One of these new friends, J.H., baked the loaf in “Humble Gifts”, those flowers are hand-picked from her garden, that’s her toasted parchment paper wrapping her homemade sourdough bread. I’m happy to say it tasted as good as it looked.

We are all enjoying the simple gifts of land: the way a house doesn’t move, the largeness of a bedroom, our huge maple’s leaves, a large oven, long showers, a car that can host us in any weather. Dale and I reflect on the ways Lady Grey life was worth it in our newest podcast episode, newly re-named “Back Porch Conversations”.

Subscribe on Apple or Podbean.

Should you be ready to connect with me more personally, I am back open for one-on-one mentoring to face any spiritual question or growth area of your life. Don't hesitate to reach out. I'd love to work with you!