Now here is why a fella buys a couple of kayaks!  Walker and I took a paddle on the Wapsipnicon River this morning, from Olin to Hale.  This led to a number of puns, but since Robyn helped me drop the car off, Walker was able to call to her "I'll see you in Hale!"

Kind of makes your day.

This is a nice little stretch of river, 6.7 miles long, with a nice current and clearing water.  The sandbars are nicely scoured by last week's high water, and Walker was totally pleased with our adventure.  He doesn't fancy lakes much.  There is no current and it's boring.  You paddle around and there's no suspense.  But a river, now, that's something different!  There's always something new around the bend.

We stopped on this sandbar and I got the camera out, of course.  I had it in the big kayak's dry compartment.  Good thing, too, because I almost ditched the little boat getting into it.  235 pounds in a 12 foot kayak takes some doing.  Once I'm in I'm almost sprightly!  Walker and I dumped the water out of my boat on the first of many sandbars and we carried on.  The sun was shining, the water was burbling, and the birds were singing.

What one sees here are heron tracks.   I should have put my toe in the picture so you could appreciate that they are 5 inches long.  Herons have big dogs.

I was telling Walker that when I was a boy, I used to go down to the Arkansas River and hang out on a sandbar.  The Arkansas (pronounced Ar-KAN-sas in Kansas and normally everywhere else) is a bendy river that meanders across Kansas from sandbar to sandbar.  It provided me with a place to go when I needed to be by myself.  There was a grassy bank up 20 feet from the sand, overhung with young elm trees, and I used to sit there and watch the water go by, and not think any more than I could help.

I have always loved to walk along the water's edge and see what the river left.  I like the texture of it.  The river leaves behind gradated lines of matter of various particular weights.  There's an order to it.  I think this one will make a great desktop wallpaper.

Of course, there were flowers, and I photographed them.   I am nothing if not consistent in this.  Robyn rolls her eyes.  I feast mine.

Time on the river calms my soul.  Walker and I spent time and didn't argue.  We needed some of that time together.  

Fourteen year old boys make better sense if you get them alone and give them a space to romp in.  Romping helps a young man channel his testosterone back into nature, vigor, joy, and motion.

Yep, this is why we buy kayaks.

 And cameras. 

Down by the river I used to find refuge from problems I did not make and could not control, from the decay and disappointment that seemed to follow our family like a stray dog.  

I was able to sit on the bank and wash away 7th grade gym, unrequited love that isn't love yet, but longing.

The water will tell you, if you listen, how you will make it through, another day, another week, the rest of your life.  

You will keep going, and if you look around. . . .

There are flowers.

Dog

Tye's in the living room lying on the sofa thinking I don't know it.  I'll go roust him in a little while.  He's a good dog and his crimes, such as they are, are minor.  Occasionally some good snack will disappear from the counter if left within inches of the edge.  He's a crotch sniffer, no denying that.  Yipes.  And he sits on the overstuffed furniture in the living room, even though he knows he's not supposed to.

He's such a good guy to have around, we don't really complain much about his foibles.  He is an agreeable creature, prone to making the rounds, collecting scratches behind ears and various rubs from each available human.  He will fetch until the earth opens up to swallow him, and can locate amazingly small items thrown into high grass, in the dark.  Tye is a pretty good frisbee catcher unless there's something more interesting, like another dog, or a tennis ball around.

Tye loses his mind over tennis balls.  We tried to catch frisbees at Kevin's one time, but as soon as he saw all the tennis balls lying around it was frisbees be damned.  The slimier the better, there is nothing quite like a well seasoned tennis ball.

Every once in a while, Tye gets a little uppity and has to be told to find a place and lie down.  He expresses his resentment through pointed, long groans.  Tye could do Streetcar Named Desire in dog speak.

Just what we need in our house: more drama.

Iowa from a bus

I did a lot of driving today, back and forth between Vinton and Cedar Rapids, ferrying our new corps members to our site from the airport.  It was funny to see my home through the eyes of a bunch of 18-24 year olds from all over the U.S.

I think this is what they saw.  Corn.  Farms.  I told them the corn was not high enough, that it should be six feet tall by now.  I told them pithy things about local lore.  Corn.  That's what they heard, as though Charlie Brown's teacher (wah, wah, wah, wah!) finally said just one intelligible word:  Corn.  Jesus, look at all that corn!  Shit.

They seem to be a great bunch of young people, full of juice and ready for a new adventure serving their country and facing challenges.  I remember when I felt like that, all full of human potential and bulletproof.  Now it's more about ducking metaphorical bullets and staying flexible.  I don't mess much with my potential.  

When I was eighteen, I secretly thought I would probably end up famous.  Now I think I'm about as famous as I'm going to be.

So I tried to explain that we were driving along the Lincoln Highway, the first transcontinental highway, once a rutted dirt road, barely graded, that brave adventurers negotiated with spindly wheeled Fords.  At the end of each day's ride, there was a roadhouse, with gas, food, and little cabins out back, some with indoor plumbing.  As we turned at the Youngville Cafe, said roadhouse, and went north on 218, I heard a kid say "Damn.  Look at all that corn."

One of the Team Leaders said "This is where we saw the tornado last week!"

That got their attention.

where am I?

Those of you who are used to checking in here once in a while to see what is leaking out of my head should know that I am sharing a space with some good friends, over at a spot we call "Lessons."  I will blog here, too, but if you're wondering what we've been doing since May 24th, v visit here:

http://nancyturtle2.blogspot.com/

I think I will continue writing my more perverse stuff here, so stay tuned. s.