Staring out the window just now at the torrential rains, I had a very vivid memory of a really pleasant day many years ago…
I was in High School I think, and a friend of mine (He was my ‘Big Brother’ actually, a program I was in for kids whose fathers weren’t around so we
could get some sense of what it’s like to be a man – I think it only partially worked ) and I were canoeing around Lake Dennison in Templeton, MA.
There had been a lot of rain that year too, a LOT of rain, and the lake’s water level was threatening to swell over the top and flood the beach entirely.
This made for some beautiful canoeing, since it allowed us to row down a series of inlets which would normally have been almost totally inaccessible
by foot because of the dense brush. It was just gorgeous out there, the air smelled incredibly lush and green, and there were flowers and small wild
life all around – we managed to get within perfect viewing distance of a doe and her fawn before they pranced away, and we’re pretty sure we disturbed
the work of a beaver or two that wasn’t at all used to the intrusion.
It’s funny how when you get older (and I don’t even mean ancient either, just middle aged) memories can take on not just the rosy glow of years long
past but a strange intensity all their own.
I stink at canoeing, but I do hope I can go out rowing even on a row boat or something again someday. I miss those quiet moments on the lake