Okay, I admit it.  I’m counting.  We are in the Bahamas and yes, it really is paradise.  The water is extrordinarily clear – we can clearly see sand dollars on the bottom at least twenty feet down.  The temperature was 88 today, but the ocean breeze kept us cool.  We’ve had moderate sailing conditions and we’ve been meeting friends along the way (also from Maine – what gives?).   We are currently on the tiny island of Little Farmer’s Cay, a remote sandy outpost with houses painted the same turquoise blue as the water.  And we are, at this moment, hanging out at Ocean Cabin, the only restaurant on the island, enjoying the company of owner Terry, while co-owner Evangeline is making our dinner.  We are the only people here tonight – the Bahamas, while chock full of cruisers during the winter, completely clears out by this time of year and both anchorages and islands have been uncrowded, including the popular Georgetown.  I’ve been really enjoying the Bahamian scenery and people.  But, I, like the kids, am a little homesick.  As beautiful as this island is, I asked John today, as we walked around, if it didn’t remind him of Frenchboro in Penobscot Bay?  It did.

So, while we make our way north to Nassau, and wrestle with how to by groceries in grocery stores that have very little on the shelves (see Jasper’s blog – he’s not exaggerating), I feel a little like a horse I road long ago that refused to keep pace the entire ride, until we turned for home – he practically killed me galloping back to the barn.