Every shingle, clapboard and leaf of flashing on the exterior of a typical building came to be because of rain. Boats are different.

A dusting of rain on my face woke me up this week anchored off Pickering Island. The bronze screen in the overhead hatch, splits each raindrop into tiny bits, like the fine flour that falls through a sifter. But it is wet.

I like to spend early mornings, even wet ones, in the cockpit. The only dry spot is the bridgedeck under the low dodger. I’m glad to have that and a steaming cup of coffee in the rain.

The cruiser moored behind us is better equipped for rain. His fixed bimini would be nice. Then I look at our rigging. Not much space for a fixed bimini. And the rain will come in from all sides, anyway.

I decide right then, this will never be a good porch but it is a great cockpit.

A bathing Guillimot makes a racket in the heavy-moist air.

Rowing the dogs to shore leaves a similar wake to the Guillimots and conveniently, there’s a lull in the rain.