Leaning on my Oars and Watching the World Drift By

I went skiffing this morning. It was really great to be out on the river again, although a little bit chilly around the edges. I had the opportunity to sit quietly, leaning on my oars while some teaching took place. The river was flowing faster than I have seen it do for quite a while, and when we weren't rowing, the boat started to drift sideways and float downstream. People walking along the banks smiled as they hurried by. I felt pleased that I was the one on the water. When I used to go for walks by the river, I wished I was in a boat - and now I am. I also love 'The Wind in the Willows', and sometimes it feels like I've stepped into the pages - especially on a beautiful summer evening, with a picnic stowed in the bows. It's also wonderful on a chilly evening, when an ethereal mist settles over the surface and the only noise you can hear is the gentle dipping of the sculls and creaking of wood. The oars leave little full stops on the surface, marking progress.

In the dark, the lights from bars and restaurants cast long reflections in the water and drinkers watch, slightly amused, that people are rowing in the cold and in the dark. Only the fishermen on the banks seem to understand the draw of the water like we do on nights like these.

Most people seem to like being near water though, maybe it's about where we all came from, an acknowledgement of the primaeval soup we once slithered out of.