On the Water's Edge

This image was inspired by a kayak trip along the Gunpowder River and then into Foster Branch. My husband and I dropped in at Mariner Point Park, paddled around the park's peninsula and into the more quiet and still water areas, away from the large motorboats.  I was thrilled to see many of my favorite birds, the osprey. One was even flying above our heads carrying a fish in its talons. It eventually perched in the branches of a dead tree and we paddled off into a cove to watch it eat from a distance. I wish I had my Canon 5D with my 400 zoom with me, but it was just way too choppy to risk it.

We also saw tons of turtles resting on driftwood throughout the river. Great blue herons were out and active. It was hysterical watching them watch us. They thought they were hiding in the tall marsh plants along the shore, standing ever so still except their eyes tracking us paddling by. It truly is a beautiful park and one of my favorite semi-local places to spot all kinds of birds.

The weather was questionable and the wind was blowing at quite a tilt. A storm was brewing in the distance. We pulled out just as the first claps of thunder were sounding. By the time we loaded the truck with the kayak and our supplies, the sky let loose.

If you ever have the chance to visit this park, either by land or by river, I highly suggest it.

xo

Point 65°North

I become one with the kayak, sinking so low in the seat that I am parallel with the water, skimming silently over the surface.  I lean back and close my eyes, thinking of all the life just underneath my boat thriving, moving, living a life we know nothing about.  My face lifts to the sun and I take it into my pores, absorbing its heat and energy and love...filling myself with it.  I need this. I need this warm embrace from the sun to my soul.  It rejuvenates me.

The birds are calling and I can hear a slight knocking...bonk, bonk, bonk.  Is that sound human or animal?  Ah, a woodpecker...just over to the left of my head on an outstretched branch that reaches longingly over the river.  Bonk, bonk, bonk.  Always in sets of threes, searching for his next morsel. In the distance I hear the honking of geese as they fly low over the water getting ready to land. It is a jarring and obnoxious sound, this honking, and it disturbs the quiet revery of the early morning river. After the splash landing (they could use some lessons in gracefulness, those geese) all falls quiet and hush again.

I can see fisherman in the distance and their lazy conversation drifts over to me on top of the water...a gift of deep, mumbled sound waves that, by the time they reach me, are indistinguishable words.  A gift all the same, because it seems that one of them has a tone that reminds me of my father's voice. I feel as if he is with me, murmuring softly about his day...I can pretend he is anyway.  When I lean forward and open my eyes, they are flooded with the bright colors of nature...greens, blues, purples, browns, grays, a vibrant painting before my eyes.  It is almost, almost, too much to take in.

I grab my paddle and gently stroke the water's surface, not wanting to disturb it too much, and propel myself slightly forward, pointed 65° North.  I'm heading toward the opening between two islands, to explore a land, a river, that I've never been to before yet it all seems familiar somehow.

Some days I just don't want to keep going. There seems like too much emotional and physical pain. But then I am here, in this place right now, using all my senses to absorb this beautiful moment, and for just a brief time the pain subsides and I renew my hope.  It is all a cycle of life and I will just keep paddling north.

Have a beautiful Monday. xo