Have I have mentioned before that I am currently working on a big project?
It is going to involve quite a bit of walking. Planning for the project means some shuffling of blog posts past and present so while I move some of my previous posts from other sites around bear with me and enjoy some of my older writing! This week I present to you a post from the summer of 2011.
A day off from walking...(and a moment off from the winter!)
The story of St. Lawrence.
I lay on the bow of the boat listening to the Stones against the backdrop of kids leaping into the river and waves lapping against the shore. The sun was hot and strong; the air hotter and stronger. Any ambition, any motivation to take a hike floated away with the currents.My first day of vacation and all I wanted to do was to spend time with my family. I had spent the afternoon watching my dog chase waves and bark at the boats. I ate fresh raspberries and my mother's homemade chocolate chip cookies. I congratulated my son on the fish he caught and scrambled to get out of the water when he released said fish a little too close to me. At the same time a limp fillet of dead fish flesh floated by thus hastening my migration to the boat. The movement of the boat lulled me into the depths of sensation. The humid air carried the scent of the river and of the trees that crawled over the islands. The water carried the sounds of the boats some humming, some sputtering and others with sails flapping as they passed. The breeze was gentle and soft like a fine silk scarf playing about my hair. I felt languid and tasted sleep. Sweet soft afternoon.
One of the thousands of islands that dot the St. Lawrence River in Canada.
The next day saw me lying on a sandy beach sipping the rays of sun that beat down around me. Sand buried tanned bodies, sand spilled into the crevices of our blankets, towels and chairs and sand crunched between our molars. More fresh raspberries deposited seeds into our sandy mouths and watermelon washed us clean. Sandwiches crafted with care and bags of chips and Doritos also filled the bellies of the hungry masses of children who have accompanied us on our trip. This day saw the air fill with footballs and Frisbees. Picnic tables sat under the poplar
trees at the top of sand dunes. Great families congregated and young lovers embraced. People pranced like porpoises in the gleaming water.
By the end of the day the sun had siphoned energy from our bodies and we limply filed like ants in a column to the parking lots. The cars welcomed us like bread to a toaster. And we all slept that night like logs in an overgrown forest. Cool and tired beneath thin sheets.
No. No walking for me this weekend.