Floating past strands of lily pads.
Listening to the watery silence of the New England wilderness.
Smelling the dank thickness of verdant trees growing along the banks.
Cupping my little girl's long, twig-like fingers that lay curled in my hands.
Watching my son peering over the side of the canoe and tracing the water's edge.
Witnessing teenage boys leaping off the old railroad bridge and into the sparkling blue.
Smiling at my handsome man deftly paddling our family on a perfectly sunny July morning.
We ended a perfect morning on the river with a perfect breakfast at Lou's--home of the best buttermilk pancakes in thee universe. Thank you, Ledyard Canoe Club of Dartmouth College. We are hooked. Maybe I'm crazy, but I want a canoe for my next birthday. For Christmas, I want snow shoes. But we'll talk about that another day; I've been bitten by the bug of the Great Outdoors.
Aside from the greatness of beauty that divides the lands of Vermont and New Hampshire, I do think that I should be a candidate of eyelash implants. Lesson that should have been learned by now: au naturel eyes is a serious transgression for my stubby lashes. Vain and wishful thinking, so be it.
