Today I went out in my decked canoe on the West River for a quiet paddle. This image is from several weeks ago when I was up in the Adirondacks on another quiet body of water. Paddling is less about the going than it is about the being there. I pack up a sandwich, water, something sweet, and a book. Then I find a shady spot on the water, someplace under a tree where the birds are feeding on the insects and the water lilies have leaves that are 15 inches across. I pull out the book and disappear into this other world of words and water, sun and breeze.
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