Debauchery on a Monday
So, I'm off for at least a month. The Sabbatical and everything. The boy took a few days off also...he gets a ridiculous amount of vacation time, which he kinda needs with what he does. So yesterday, on a glorious May Monday when the rest of the world was at work, we went on our first canoe trip of the year. Guilt lapped at my mind as the choppy water lapped at our entry-level Great Canadian. It just feels wrong to be enjoying life, the world, the day..when everyone I know is involved in the daily BS. Silly. I have earned this time, I keep telling myself. This time, these moments, will stick with me in memory for a long, long time. It's an investment.
Anyhow.
We had almost complete solitude for 3 hours, save for one lone kayaker and an old guy fishing. And then there were the birds. Swarms of swallows did mosquito-eating aerobatics over the river and marsh, sometimes swooping close overhead. Macho red-winged blackbirds trumpeted about their territory from dead branches. There was a moment when two Canada geese flew close, making their desperate-sounding, primeval call that always gives me chills....even more so when reflected and echoed by the river. The most sublime moment was watching a huge blue heron take off as we approached. All was quiet enough to hear the taffeta swish of each enormous wingstroke. And I kept thinking that all these little scenes must happen at every moment, unseen by human eye. How much more fortunate could we be at that point in time? On a Monday afternoon? For a part of it, within earshot of the swoosh and rush of I-95...cars and trucks filled with the worries and preoccupations and aggravation of a Monday. Would I be an asshole if I admitted that a tiny part of me was supressing a smug little "HA ha!"?
Anyhow.
We had almost complete solitude for 3 hours, save for one lone kayaker and an old guy fishing. And then there were the birds. Swarms of swallows did mosquito-eating aerobatics over the river and marsh, sometimes swooping close overhead. Macho red-winged blackbirds trumpeted about their territory from dead branches. There was a moment when two Canada geese flew close, making their desperate-sounding, primeval call that always gives me chills....even more so when reflected and echoed by the river. The most sublime moment was watching a huge blue heron take off as we approached. All was quiet enough to hear the taffeta swish of each enormous wingstroke. And I kept thinking that all these little scenes must happen at every moment, unseen by human eye. How much more fortunate could we be at that point in time? On a Monday afternoon? For a part of it, within earshot of the swoosh and rush of I-95...cars and trucks filled with the worries and preoccupations and aggravation of a Monday. Would I be an asshole if I admitted that a tiny part of me was supressing a smug little "HA ha!"?
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