Lost in Thought at the Lake
Went to the lake early this morning. The mist had risen off the water and just hung in the air. A couple times it sprinkled but mostly it was still and peaceful. Even the usually noisy and territorial Kingfisher was quiet. Like dragging a finger through a still wet Monet landscape my boat affected the surface of the water.
I was fairly alone on the lake. Three fishermen, one who stayed on shore, puttered around searching for fish and watching me, whether it was out of curiosity or annoyance that they watched I could not tell.
The water was as reflective as my thoughts. I haven't been impressed with the way I have dealt with the girls at the house. I'm not sure what to do to fix this, either.
Earlier in the month I had met another kayaker on the river. He was an older gentleman who had been paddling for some years. His strokes were subtle, almost invisible and yet effective. He was a work of efficiency as he paddled back up river. I knew I had found a new role model as I beat the water into submission with my own paddle.
I want my work with the girls to be as unobtrusive as this man's paddling was to the water.
