I'm listening to the relaxed Cuban sounds of the Buena Vista Social Club and thinking about the warm weather earlier today and how in the boat yards workers are preparing for the sailing season.

I walked by a wooden mast lying horizontally on blocks, freshly painted and varnished, drying in the sun. The varnish brought out the qualities of the wood. The mast drying in the sun contrasted with my thoughts of the woman I saw last night closing a nearby tanning salon. I was walking by when her face surprised me with its artificial hue and odd white lipstick.

This afternoon, latin music floated up from a yacht where other workers were doing some spring cleaning and repairs. Cars were parked on the dock. On the other side of the breakwater, the lake was still and transparent, looking docile and beckoning, like an immense swimming pool. It did not look cold. Has the ice left us for good?

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