This is the same view I had each morning when I awoke in Tenants Harbor, ME. The soft deep thumping of the lobstermen's boat diesels would start my day, too. Each day the sky was completely different, but un-mistakenly Maine. This is small; 10x10, completed in a couple of gusty hours one afternoon.
Moral: she who hesitates misses the calm of the morning and has to spend some effort making sure her easel does not become airborne. I use a stone bag which I always carry with me (the stone I can usually find on location) and occasionally have to resort to bunji cords and shelter of a windbreak. Still sometimes a gust will determine where a stroke ends up.