A Summer Wasting

The wonderfully named Scribner River

Back briefly from the trip to D family cabin on the shores of a large placid lake which sits on the Maine/New Hampshire border. There was much kayaking and Loon spotting, but no pictures of the birds, unfortunately. I was happy to get a still shot of the river, above, without losing my camera to the muddy depths. I read In the Wilderness, by Miguel Rivas, or rather, let it pop and flash its Galician allegories around my head while I sat on the dock spotting tiddly fish and listening to only the clean knock of the waves against the shore. Ahh, bliss.

The view from the cabin...can almost hear the birdsong and chipmunk chikchik now....

Now D and I run off South to the capital tomorrow…it is August and New York feels as though wrapped in a hot clammy blanket made of dog hair.  It is hard to have a firm thought about much, but hopefully in D.C., between sightseeing and hiding from the heat, I can begin to dig down into a new draft of The Millenial. Or read. Reading for coolness and respite. I feel very lucky.

We leave the US, all being well, before the month is out.


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Filed under consolations of reading, Planning, The Now

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