I hate noise. Anchor next to me with a loud generator and I'll harbor fantasies of your assassination. Halyards slapping against an aluminum mast drive me nuts. Roaring, crashing surf can be far noisier but it's a sound I adore, especially when it's pounding on a protective reef just to windward of where I'm safely anchored. Sitting at night in a quiet cove surrounded by the sounds of flags flapping in the breeze, wavelets splashing against the dinghy, pine needles rustling above the beach, I'm perfectly at peace. Those sounds are not noise, they are like the sounds of my heartbeat, the sounds of being alive in a place where I belong. Noise is something man creates. The sounds of wind and water are the ancient comforts of home.

[ I blame the winter solstice for putting me in a reflective mood. ]