With my fellows still away for their annual Father/Son camping trip, I had a lovely time dawdling as I walked this morning. No need to get back at any particular time for breakfast.
I stopped and watched a gentleman preparing his boat. He turned it, we exchanged “good mornings,” he stepped aboard, then sailed off.
A little farther on, I saw a dark shape in the water. I tried to catch a photo of it, but it disappeared below the surface. If I’d been able to, it probably would have looked like one of those pictures I’ve seen of Ogopogo. I’m pretty sure it was a harbour seal, but maybe . . .
Then I saw a couple of kayakers, their boats close beside each other, with just enough space for the paddles between them. A neat morning to be out in the bay. Little wind, foggy, quiet. It’s kind of funny how the mist magnifies things. A cormorant a distance away looked the size of a pelican. I heard the people on the kayaks talking, but I couldn’t tell what they were saying, their laughter carrying clearly across the water.
A heron I often see was up near the top of a tall pine tree, sleeping, its head tucked under wing, back turned towards the bay. And as I walked along the street heading home, the call of crows echoed. That sound always makes me think of camping during the summer at Shuswap Lake in British Columbia when I was a child. Good memories.