Just like a prayer

It was warm and muggy and I had set my mind on kayaking after an early supper. As I put in the water, the church bells were ringing 6 pm. I paddled languidly west on the mighty Ottawa river which at this hour seems as calm as a pond, into the the hazy orangy-pink sun hugging the north bank hoping to catch a glimpse of an otter or maybe a fox. I only managed to annoy a noisy blue heron and scare off a duck.

I gave thanks for being able to cut through clean enough water thinking about those poor souls in New Olreans wading in toxic soup. I paddled past the log château and played hide and go seek all by myself in among the towering reeds.

As the sun dipped further down almost disappearing behind what we locals call the mountain and a fog started to descend, I figured that I better turn back and I pretended to be an athlete training for a competition and sprinted back to the hotel marina. I slacked off a bit but kept up a decent pace as I aimed my kayak at the municipal marina.

I got out of the water as the church bells signaled that I'd been away for an hour. It was only an hour but it was like a vacation. There is an old native saying that goes a bit like this:
For everyday spent on the water , you add a day to your life.

If the day I add on resembles in any way the day I had yesterday, I'll take it.