07/07/2026
A mosquito bite on my backside through the canoe seat is a low blow on such a beautiful evening. A headwind promised to hide me from the bugs or help me along against the current, which was formidable as the creek was in flood stage. The evening sun, on this unexpected paddle, highlighted views of green carpets among larger flora along the eastern shore. A beaver sighting led shortly to another - this one betrayed by his contented chewing. I came within a few feet of him, beady eyes and all.
How pleasant is the paddle back! Easy strokes now, careless with leisure but the wind has broken its promise and I must release my feet to the mosquitoes so that my eyes , ears and nose can attend to the beauty of this evening. A robin welcomes the setting sun, now about a hands-width above the horizon. It reflects off the hue of the river, which is, in my opinion, decidedly ‘agricultural brown’. Tall grasses, with their feet in the water, lean over, perhaps to see their reflection.
I am paddling the rains of this morning and many days before.
Periodically the foliage offers a brief glimpse deep inside the bird-speckled forest and tiny bits of sun explode, intense, narrow and white. Suddenly the bank opens up and the sun washes upon the eastern shore - a seeming stage, grasses and expectant trees waiting for what small and likely unseen drama that will unfold in this quiet backwards river. I paddle on but offer my gratitude.
Thank-you, La Salle
