Last Thursday Evening

There are some things that defy photography... By the way, this is a busy week as we're moving offices. I'll be around some, but how much is questionable. I just hope to maintain sanity.

I leave the creek and head across the lake. My bow points toward the crescent moon, just a day or maybe two after rebirth, hanging just above the pink and purple band around the horizon. My dog is asleep, tucked in between the forward thwarts, oblivious to the hum of insects, the croaking of the bullfrogs, and the drips of water off the blade of my paddle. I pause long enough to slap at a mosquito on the back of my neck, and then look up to watch an air show. Like the planes of a carrier clearing the air for the safety of those below, split-tail barn swallows and bats scoot and dive across the sky, feeding on insects in the evening air. The calm waters are pink, reflecting the sky. The mirrored image of the moon and Venus, which is just above the crescent, are also in the waters. In the distance, I hear the coughing start of an outboard; another fisherman has decided to call it a day. I draw the paddle deep into the water, pulling my canoe toward the distant launch. The moon continues to drop toward extinction as more stars appear. As I approach the shore, waves from the fisherman’s boat cutting across on the other side of the lake gently rocks my boat, sloshing the dog around. He wakes, wondering what’s up. I pull up, parallel to shore and he jumps out. I follow, dragging gear back to the truck and return for the boat. The moon is now gone from the sky. It’s time to head home.