We have this go-to trip, which is Eshback to Bushkill. Four miles. Float more than paddle. Drink a few beers. The river is glass at this time in the evening. The wildlife comes out to play. We saw two groups of deer playing and drinking at the water's edge, as well as a bald eagle coast across the river and roost in a tree on a high branch above the shore. There are ducks and beaver, doing their twilight thing, as we are. They are smart, in their own tiny brain reasoning.
We stare at computers, go to meetings, talk shop and then you float your boat on the river and you get dangerously close to figuring out that something here doesn't matter. I mean, just a little close, but you know it just brings you back to the mean. Some kind of math that's ingrained in our being. Something like how the animals of the forest plug their day away just surviving, but come to exalt at the evening light, and just enjoy that cool, calm evening.
[g]
