Floating down the St. Croix in the warm sunshine during late fall. Who knew mother nature would even make this possible? No rightful Minnesotan would let a day like this pass by. This was a bonus day of summer.
All my boys, close friends and new friends meandered down the river and made new ways through the reeds and tributaries, even finding a spot to Yoga SUP where just earlier duck hunters cleared a path. It was so still. Felt as if we were able to renew nature and bring calm to a hunters fortress. We didn’t get out of the water without waves. Portaging over logs and shallow spots, with the goal of staying afloat while the youngest of the crew had a running bet to fall off as many times as possible.
“There were graceful curves, reflected images, woody heights, soft distances; and over the whole scene, far and near, the dissolving lights drifted steadily, enriching it, every passing moment, with new marvels of coloring” – Two Ways of Seeing a River; Mark Twain.
Oh Mark Twain, I get it.
