SUCH a NIGHT
With any number from which to choose, my pick of this past summer’s evenings might just have to be the first Friday of August. As late afternoon pushed past 5 p.m., the temperature stayed warm, and though the south wind went light, there was still enough to keep the flags ashore flying and to spread ripples across the water. Out on our boat, Scoot, a vintage 16-foot Daysailer, I had the sail cover off, the jib hanked on, the sheets ready, and the main and jib halyards attached. With no chores left, I eased back against the coaming, waited for guests to arrive, and watched the world float by.
Just outside the mooring field in what Nahant, Massachusetts, calls a harbor (others might refer to it as…
