Canoeing

Really, in the last few days, I haven't done anything. I have a list (surprise! a list) of things that I am trying to get accomplished, but right now, I'm only chipping the fun ones off the list. And, of course, I'm doing plenty of really great things.
Like taking the VW out for drives. I forgot how fun it is to drive--and how fun it is to drive this little bug.
Like playing cards with Mom and Dad.
Like taking one of the old bicycles down and peddling around this little town.
Like canoeing.
The first times that I remember boating or paddling were with the Furlers: that memorable little motorboat on Lake George and the funny rowboat somewhere behind their house in a random marsh. Those were such imaginative and wonderful days.
Then, our family and the Furlers started appreciating the quiet float trips, especially on the Delaware Water Gap and the Youghiogheny River (spelling is questionable, but this was certainly the most life-threatening and exciting canoe ride I have experienced).
And now, I find myself paddling around the lake here in Indiana, trying not to scare the egrets and the herons, and trying to maintain control when the wind picks up. I sit high in the water when I'm alone, so trying not to blow around the lake can be a bit of a challenge. But there certainly is something about watching the fish jump out of the water, exploring small inlets, and watching the clouds float overhead, there is something about this time that is so familiar.