People tell me that spring is days away. But what if it’s not? What if we expect it to come tomorrow and surprisingly, it does not? And it doesn't come the next day. Or next week, or next month -- the season is wiped off the slate, permanently. Winter, repeating itself like Groundhog Day in the movies. Until you go mad.
You get to thinking crazy thoughts like this if you wake up to another day of cold.
We were to go to Milwaukee, but talk of snow there put us off. Besides, this is the weekend of Canoecopia over at the convention center: the biggest kayak and canoe “convention” in Madison. In the Midwest. In the world. Says Ed.
We attend presentations. Kayaking in Provence. Kayaking in the UP. Kayaking in New England. I feel I have paddled and portaged enough to develop kayak blisters.
And around me, I see endless paddling enthusiasts.
She'd do well in a little polyethylene boat. A paddler in the making. Me, I love kayaking and I am happy to do what everyone does – get in and out of many many boats.
But in the end, I have to wonder: a million people (my own estimate) have come here to look at kayaks and canoes? Wow. We better dig out some more rivers to make room.
Meantime, Ed and I speculate about optimal kayaking places. He likes the spots where cell phone and WiFi signals are... not commonplace. Me? A morning espresso before paddling and an evening glass of wine afterwards seem optimal. Have I mentioned before that Ed and I approach life differently?
We leave the show. We make vague plans about future kayaking trips up one coast or another.
It’s not so cold now. And not a flake in sight. Monday, they say it may rain. So much for winter-hog day.
