At the farthest reaches of where we rowed this morning the tight puddles left by our paddles stretched it seemed like forever behind our double shell.
They were the only disturbance of the mirrored surface, that and the thin vapor-like trail of our boat’s wake connecting as it were the dots we left behind.
We were flying, the clouds above reflected in the water below.
Mile after swinging-along mile we rowed, no idle chatter, no verbal commands.
None were needed. Not in turning, not in even gentle corrections to our course did we say anything at all.
Having rowed nearly 150 miles together, we match my daughter and me.
There’s just a sense out there in the early morning unearthly stillness that words are so unnecessary, that they’d be unsettling somehow, interrupting what is so magical.
Simply sensing the bow’s stronger pull on the port side, she responds accordingly in the stern, and the fragile craft cooperates while the shoreline curves away.
There was one time we stopped.
Because the deer had.
The fawn and its parents had been watching the blinking bow light approach.
They stood and stared.
So, we let it run, slowly glided by and stared back.
Had we not finally decided to continue maybe they wouldn’t have either.
Even as we stroked away the fawn lingered, watching.
Then, without a sound, not a command at all, they were gone.
Thank you for this beautiful, soothing article! To read a lyrical text like this in between all the news about socially and politically up-stirring news we receive every day is a true gift. A moment to rest, contemplate, picture, and dream. What a beginning to another week. Breathing in. Breathing out …
Truly a picturesque description of your own Susanne by which to say, ‘thank you’!
Such a beautiful scenic and natural picture you describe. Food for my imagination. Thank you
Thank you Joan!