Eerie mist rose from the lake. The early morning had no hint yet of sunshine. Marni and Tim put on life jackets, and stocking caps for the cool air. The mysteriousness of the fog enveloped them as they slid their longboats off the shore.
Each had perfected the art of silently dipping the wooden paddles into the depths. Two strokes glided the
kayaks into the cloaked area. They couldn't see each other although they were side by side. Marni whistled
two notes. Tim chuckled, and echoed her call. He was close by, yet shrouded.
Quietly they paddled on. Their rhythmic movements churned the veiled atmosphere, causing it to shift and float. Up ahead Tim made out a fallen white birch tree jutting into the water. He whistled the two notes to Marni, as a signal; she whistled back, as acknowledgment, she'd seen the obstacle.
Paddling gave them solitude. No work politics annoyed them here, nor deadlines, or pressure. There was one person in control of their own destiny and destination. Marni and Tim followed their own whims.
A pair of loons called near the water's edge. The vapor was lifting--warm sunshine was burning it away,
revealing the azure of the water stretching ahead. Bayous off to the side called to Marni, to poke around.
Among the mulberry bushes were chickadees. A snake was sunning on a rotted stump. Painted turtles perched on a granite rock until they noticed her red boat, and disappeared from view.
Tim ventured to the middle of the oval lake. He liked to survey the width and length, drawing the expansiveness of trees, sky and rippling waves into the
depths of his soul.
This was real life--majestic oaks, spruce and white pines towering overhead, mirrored in the glassiness.
A lone eagle soared above puffy clouds.
A red fox trotted through a marshy area.
Marni glided her kayak alongside her love, and smiled. She could see the lines on his face had relaxed, their
souls were refreshed, the rhythms of life were replenished.
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