Midges. A thousand thousand (thousand thousand) small creatures, all with rapid wing beats, all along the shore. Each sound infinitesimal, but all together—loud. D above middle C, I believe, but occasionally an instantaneous rise and drop in pitch. How does that happen? Is there a conductor?

Also in the noise department, a robin, noisy, over by Tysons. This must be an industrious robin because getting here from points south means quite a trip, with a good long stretch over water. And, additionally, a bull frog, chug-a-rumming down in the marsh grass of the swale.

Today was also Heliotrope day. (More below the photos.)

Shrink wrap off, hull and deck power-washed, hull wiped down with magic hull cleaner, etc. Lots of awkward, damp, and moderately annoying chores. But just when you start to get cranky, you realize that what you are doing is boat-work, and there is almost nothing better than boat-work, and you remember all the many past years of boat-work, and you can visualize the boat looking fancy as she splashes back into her element. That’s when you know you would rather do almost nothing else.