in which my camera walks the plank
Alack and alas, last week I dropped my camera into the murky depths of the Grasse River. I was in my kayak, of course.
It is the first unfortunate thing that ever happened to me while kayaking. Well, there WAS this.
Otherwise, every single venture on the river has been full of joyous and rollicking good times. Without fail, each time I come home with a damp bottom and more prominent tan lines, I wax rhapsodic about my little trip on my green boat.
This day, I watched the skies. I waited for a shining hour to present itself, ripe for a quick paddle. In between peeks out of windows, I read over lessons with my star pupil, mopped the floors, cleaned the bathroom, did laundry, practiced the piano, and made cabbage rolls.
The hoped for hour never came. -Or else it passed me by when I was engrossed in household tasks of the hum-drum sort. Nightfall dropped its curtain a few minutes earlier than last evening, leaving me bereft of even a tiny splash of river water on my brow. The day is now gone, joining the 365 X 47 days that dance behind me like so many beads on a string.
The days for sunning myself on the water in 2009 are fast coming to a close. They were a finite number from the very beginning, anyway -so I tell myself. Soon my little green vessel will be stowed in the barn for the long, dark winter months.
Then, safely cloistered in my warm house, I will cast longing eyes from my deep window sills far up the stretches of the Grasse River where imagined blue herons lurch from the blooming brush and the little fishies flash their scales in the underwater sunbeams once again.
It is the first unfortunate thing that ever happened to me while kayaking. Well, there WAS this.
Otherwise, every single venture on the river has been full of joyous and rollicking good times. Without fail, each time I come home with a damp bottom and more prominent tan lines, I wax rhapsodic about my little trip on my green boat.
This day, I watched the skies. I waited for a shining hour to present itself, ripe for a quick paddle. In between peeks out of windows, I read over lessons with my star pupil, mopped the floors, cleaned the bathroom, did laundry, practiced the piano, and made cabbage rolls.
The hoped for hour never came. -Or else it passed me by when I was engrossed in household tasks of the hum-drum sort. Nightfall dropped its curtain a few minutes earlier than last evening, leaving me bereft of even a tiny splash of river water on my brow. The day is now gone, joining the 365 X 47 days that dance behind me like so many beads on a string.
The days for sunning myself on the water in 2009 are fast coming to a close. They were a finite number from the very beginning, anyway -so I tell myself. Soon my little green vessel will be stowed in the barn for the long, dark winter months.
Then, safely cloistered in my warm house, I will cast longing eyes from my deep window sills far up the stretches of the Grasse River where imagined blue herons lurch from the blooming brush and the little fishies flash their scales in the underwater sunbeams once again.
posted by thisrequiresthought at 11:15 PM
2 Comments:
I feel your pain. Michael and I grabbed what we thought was a sunny moment on Sunday to go for a paddle, only to be poured on as we were headed back. Oh well. It made for a grand adventure and kayaking in the rain is better than not kayaking at all.
Sorry to hear about your camera, but I enjoyed reflecting back on your 1st unfortunate thing to happen to you while kayaking. Still laughing. Friend #32.
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