It’s 4:30 a.m. Sheer force of will is the only thing moving my protesting self onto the pitch-dark deck of my husband’s and my Maine windjammer, the J. & E. Riggin. As I patter down the deck (although “patter” makes it sound more awake and cheerful than I feel) to the galley to light the wood stove, the sun is not visible, nor even the gloam of a sunrise.

The night stars are still out, though. When I catch my first glimpse of the constellation Orion this early in the morning, I know the end of summer is nigh.

Annie Mahle joins her husband, Jon Finger, on deck. It’s the time of year when Mahle feels the need to “breathe the salt air in a little deeper, watch the sunsets a wee bit longer.” Whitney Hayward/Staff Photographer

It’s a reminder that I need to breathe the salt air in a little deeper, watch the sunsets a wee bit longer and stay out on deck with the wind in my face one heartbeat more than I planned. As the days shorten and the temperature drops, it’s the memories of these things that will sustain me until summer comes round again.

Like the flick of the switch, a day comes in late August or early September when the breezes shift from southwest to northwest. The hazy, smoky summer landscape transforms itself into the crisp lines and clear silhouettes of fall.

The water goes from a (sometimes) glass-calm forest green to a romping navy blue. The sailing is the best of the season, taking us to places we haven’t been all summer and sending our windjammer farther away from our home port of Rockland on a lovely broad reach.

As soon as this crisp, clear air enfolds us, my kitchen and cooking cravings change, too. Goodbye to garlicky green beans and strawberry shortcake. Now soups and stews are what I want to make. The urge is like the turning of the leaves – immutable and dependable.

Technically, our summer sailing season won’t end until Columbus Day, but the beginnings of soup and Orion bring bittersweet feelings of changing seasons and rhythms.

I’ll be back on shore soon, where my soup pot is a small one, sized for our family of four.

The big pot I have on board – so big, I can barely wrap my arms around it – feeds 30 or so, the crew plus the two dozen guests at a time who join us on our overnight sailing adventures. At sea, I chop entire bags of onions for soups, at home just a single one. And the mountains of vegetables that resupply each sailing trip will soon subside.

Back on shore, I’ll exchange my wood stove for a gas one, and a tiny galley kitchen for a home kitchen that’s four times its size yet normally feeds barely one-eighth the number of eaters. I’ll notice how far the stove is from the sink is from the refrigerator, and I’ll wish my home kitchen were equipped with an assistant cook. I’ll wrap my giant soup pot in plastic, and I’ll shelve it in the barn until next summer with the rest of the galley and boat equipment. Silly as it sounds, I’ll wish it a happy winter.

The end of summer also means it’s time for me to say so long to this column and to you. I’ve enjoyed your company, and I hope to spend another summer with you next year.

Until then, smooth sailing.

ITALIAN SAUSAGE, BLACK BEAN, FENNEL AND LIME SOUP

I won’t make this recipe until the winds change, but when they do, it’s always one of the first things on the menu. I’ve scaled the recipe down here to serve a family.

Serves 4 to 6

2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

1 cup diced green pepper

2 cups diced onions

1 cup diced celery

1 cup diced fennel

1 pound Italian sausage, casing discarded and sausage broken up into pieces

1 tablespoon minced garlic

1 tablespoon fennel seed

1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes

2 to 3 teaspoons lime zest and 4 tablespoons lime juice

1 teaspoon kosher salt

2 (15-ounce) cans black beans

1 (28-ounce) can diced tomatoes

6 cups chicken or beef broth

2 cups lightly packed, coarsely chopped kale

Heat a large stockpot over medium-high heat. Add the oil. When it’s warm, add the pepper, onion, celery and fennel and sauté until the onions are translucent and the other vegetables are soft, about 7 minutes.

Add the sausage, garlic, fennel seed, red pepper flakes, lime zest and salt and mash the mixture with a potato masher to break up the sausage.

Sauté until the sausage is cooked through, about 10 minutes. Reduce the heat to medium-low if necessary to keep the mixture from scorching.

Add the beans, tomatoes and broth. Bring to a simmer and reduce heat to medium-low. Cover and simmer for at least 30 minutes. Add the kale and lime juice and cook for another 5 minutes.

Anne Mahle of Rockland is the author of “Sugar and Salt: A Year at Home and at Sea.” She blogs at athomeatsea.com and can be reached at:

chefannie@mainewindjammer.com

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