September 11, 2022

We made camp at remote site #18 on the western shore of the Green River Reservoir in Lamoille County, Vermont. An hour earlier, we had off-loaded our gear and embarked on a leisurely paddle of about 3/4 mile through still waters. One canoe, one kayak, one grownup, two kids, and a small number of essentials to enjoy twenty-four hours living out of doors. Once on the glassy water, we slid gracefully out of our everyday lives into a temporary solitude, the surrounding forest buffering our bodies against the designs of others who might desire our attention and time. The landscape enveloped us with a full spectrum of sensory delights. I breathed deeply, let my fingertips trail in the water, unfocused my eyes on the dappled reflection of moving light. Later, floating on the surface of the lake, the warmth of the end-of-summer sun above and the coolness of the water below, our bodies hung in perfect equilibrium, weightless and boundless. When we dozed off later that evening, loons called to each other across the darkness, their wails haunting our dreams and their tremolo calls drawing us into half-sleep, alternately.