The sky was overcast; heavy gray clouds loomed in the heavens and the wind rippled the lake. The boat floated gently, waves lapping quietly against it. I gingerly stepped out of the canoe and began to pull the vessel ashore. Before I realized my error, however, the boat wrenched in my hands and began to spill into the lake. I looked up into the wide eyes of my companion as she let pass a cry for help. She hit the black water and it swallowed her whole. In a moment she resurfaced, sputtering and cursing. I expressed my apologies and held out an offering hand. She swatted it away, hissing through her teeth.
The day was overall pleasant, a bit chilly, but it was a lovely day to be out in the canoe; I was sad to be done so soon. We paddled our boat close to shore and I gripped the gunwale as my partner rocked our little boat as she exited. I could tell she was nervous just as I was; entering and exiting a boat can be a tricky business. Before I could warn her not to, she had realized it was easy enough to pull on the canoe and had started to drag it up on the bank. A canoe becomes very unstable when the bow is up on land and the stern is weighed down in the water; any shift in balance throws it off… and that’s exactly what happened. I glared at my partner and despite knowing that there was nothing I could do to say myself, I vocalized my frustration. I drew a hasty breath and was inundated by frigid water. The canoe fell hard on my leg, inciting a sharp pang. As soon as I felt the shallow bottom of the pond, I broke the surface of the water. More scared than angry, I expressed myself as such.
I walked along a quiet morning, the sun shone gently on my skin and the birds hummed softly in the wind. I walked a path I had traversed a hundred times before, using it only to get from one place to another. Movement entreated the attention of my eye and my gaze was drawn to an old, lonely tree. I couldn’t tell you what kind of tree it was, even if I had wanted to, but its bark was a weary brown, sharp and peeling. There was a large knot in its trunk, deep enough to fit your whole forearm, I suppose. In the tree’s knot, played a beautiful baby brown squirrel. He ran around the knot, gripping to the bark and scratched his back. I pulled out my phone to snap a quick photo, but as soon as I stepped closer, he darted out of sight and another popped out the other side of the tree. Curious sweet little things; I almost felt sad for scaring them.