Early Sunday afternoon
...but it is too cold for what comes to mind. A late winter storm predicted and some of us are out at Harrybrooke as if we need to take a deep breath before we are submerged yet again. New England creates greediness for the smallest scrap of palatable weather and, at the same time, an abiding appreciation because we are so often waiting outside paradise looking in. Later, I will take a drive by Candlewood Lake and marvel at the way its surface motion from the sixty degree day we had on Friday has been frozen as if stopped in mid-stir. But just now, the sound of a lone man in a sleek canoe, slicing through the cold in the low water with conservancy and control is the score and choreography of the day…and my head is turned as if it were a swan…
This makes me feel as if I'm out looking at the water, even though I'm right here at my computer.
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