On still summer mornings, with the lake so calm the surface
seems poised to shatter, I always discover again the pleasure of paddling for
its own sake.
A good canoe does not merely travel across a lake or river, it
glides along the interface between water and air, making hardly a ripple in
passing and is so silent that it blends with the world.
Paddling it makes you part of the lake, not
an intruder, and a participant in the pastel dramas of dawn.
Being out there is not just a way to greet the new day; it’s
a way to be reawakened to it, to see it again with the eyes of children.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment