Story

From Chesapeake Bay, With Love

Feb 10, 2026

Fotolia

Small snapshots of meaningful moments through the lens of “this beautiful estuary.”

We say often that the Chesapeake Bay, and all of its rivers and streams, are more than mere water. Sometimes it’s the backdrop, sometimes the centerpiece, but always it is a presence in our lives, a witness to moments both magical and mundane. Inspired by the “Tiny Love Stories” column in The New York Times, we asked CBF staff for miniature portraits—100 words or less—of moments when the Bay helped us connect deeply. We hope you’ll enjoy reading the stories they shared as much as we did. We hope, too, that they invite reflection on the memories of love, heartache, peace, joy, and friendship in your own life that connect you to this place. Happy Valentine’s Day.

Hearts Captured and Brined

A smiling young couple stand next to each other.

Two piano students from the Kansas Free State,
Raised on tornadoes and barbeque-laden plates.
The Navy sailed him East, and the desert beckoned her West;
One Christmas called them home, and they became obsessed.

He lured her with rockfish and walks on cobblestone streets;
She learned about jib sails and crabbing with chicken feet.
He proposed beneath an Annapolitan Liberty Tree,
And together they navigated this beautiful estuary.

Their family grew amongst the herons and osprey,
Marveling in the beauty of the Chesapeake Bay.
Blessed they found in each their soulmate,
Hearts captured and brined by the Maryland Free State.

—Jennifer Smolen, Budget Director

Bay Sick

A smiling young woman stands on the deck of a boat holding a large catfish.

The night before my first day my mom asked, “do you get seasick?” and it occurred to me how many things I didn’t know. Have you ever gotten bay sick? From tasting the brackish waves that break over a hull? From holding an eel’s impossibly slick body? From watching the slow heartbeat of a freshly shucked oyster? I’ve been told there’s a wave for every stomach. Not to get too comfortable. But now my whole self hungers for an unsteady deck; knees braced, arms straining over a rope, towing in something wonderful.

—Alyssa Crogan, Baltimore Harbor Program Manager

A Promise of Joy to Come

A smiling woman holds a little baby. The Bay is in the background.

My son was born during the Covid summer of 2020, when pregnancy and postpartum life felt oppressively lonely. Masked and distanced, we moved through those early days on our own. What saved me was a beach along the Chesapeake Bay. When my house felt too heavy, I carried a beach chair and an overstuffed diaper bag to the shore. My baby would cry, and I would cry too, to the sound of the soft waves. In those peaceful moments, the fog of new motherhood—and perhaps a touch of postpartum depression—lifted, and I could see the joy to come.

—Katie Leaverton, Associate Director of Data Analytics and Strategy

Connected to Water

A man and woman holding hands walk along a beach.

My partner and I got married in an intimate ceremony on the beach outside CBF’s Annapolis office this past summer. Having met and fallen in love while living in Hawaii, our mutual connection to nature, especially water, is very strong. Celebrating our marriage on the shores of the Bay was a special way for us to honor the origins of our love story, as well as our new adventures in the watershed where I was born and raised and where we both now call home.

—Laura Stein, Grants Manager

The Blue Crab Test

A man and woman look at each other while picking crabs.

My father-in-law says he knew my husband and I were right for each other the night we all sat down to pick blue crabs. It was my first year in Maryland, and I didn’t know the weight of the tradition (or how to handle a 10-legged crustacean). The details elude me, but I remember the warmth of the restaurant. The sting of J.O. on cut cuticles. The heavy brown paper marked with beer rings. The pleasure of sitting shoulder to shoulder. It felt like family before it was. It felt like I wanted to belong here.

—Codi Yeager, Senior Writer

For the Love of a Place

Three little girls race down a dock at sunset.

Forty-five years, I’ve known you—almost as long as my mother. The towering loblolly pines, the smack of salt and sweat on the breeze, the delightful childhood shrieks on the dock—first my sister and me, then my nieces, then my own two daughters—always in pairs, always sisters, always exploring. The cheep of the osprey. And the sunset. Oh, that sunset streaked across the sky in the most dazzling reds! The cottage my grandfather built after the war. Here on this sturdy bank overlooking Fishing Bay. Here you are . . . my favorite place.

—Emmy Nicklin, Director of Digital Marketing and Communications