It was some Novembers ago and I was very sad. The boating season was coming to a close. All the signs were there. The days had become noticeably shorter, the nights colder and the annual migration of boats from their slips to their winter gardens was well underway. Sure, a couple of clamming garveys would continue to ply the bays and even a handful of larger boats would stay in the water, but most had had their systems drained and sat in their slips entangled in a bubbler system stranglehold that would keep the salty ice away from their hulls in the…