Bar Harbor, Maine. As the fog spreads across the inlet at high tide I wonder, have we taken on sufficient water during our travels to last us through the next ten months in the desert. The honeyed taste of rain breathed deep into the back of my throat, the misty film of salt sea air rubbed into my cheeks, the oozing fertile mud of the salt marshes and mussel beds tucked in between my toes. Will it be enough to soak our parched roots and tide us over for ten more months in the desert? We drink deep here.