The summer here has been warm but the hubs and I have enjoyed being on the water early in the morning. We both row crew and each of us have our own singles. There is something indescribable about being in that boat in the peace of the water. It is easy to understand that most people are hooked when they start rowing.
My boat is my baby and it feels like it was made just for me. And it arrived like a baby, I swear. I bought it used from a professor in Connecticut in October of 2017. It was a great deal and he agreed to transport it to Boston for the Head of the Charles regatta where a friend who was racing would allow it on their trailer to come back to me here. But details got mixed up and that fell through. He was kind enough then to tell me that he'd "put it to bed" for the winter at his cottage and we'd figure out transport in spring. I am so grateful for Dr. Bob and his kind effort to help my new baby come home.
April came and thought I had transport set up, it seemed that it was not meant to be because not only was my transport guy in the wind, but the snows on the east coast prevented my professor friend from getting my beloved shell out of its "winter bed."
So I found another transport and got him engaged and his route would bring him through at the end of July. We had left the rowing club that had become the "over 40 means girls club" so both of us were "jonesing" for time on the water. That beautiful shell could not get here quick enough...
It was the day after my birthday and Steve, my transport driver, texted me that he was about a mile away. By the time I found shoes and opened the garage door, and BOLTED down the driveway screaming, he was pulling up at the end of the driveway. As I jumped up and down like a 6 year old, he said "Well, you must be Sally!" It was here, 9 months later, like birthin' a baby! And the hubs snapped this picture as I laid it in the slings and took its jammies off:
We christened her that night the Harley Jane. Named after my Dad, Harley and my Mom, Mary Jane. I love thinking that they ride with me in the mornings. They would love it.
And the mornings are glorious. The sun glimmers on the water and the morning fog rises from the water like little feathers lifting off the surface of the lake. The birds sing announcing the day. And we walk blades down to the shore before we get the shells off of the top of the Explorer.
The local lake is protected by tree line and is 99% of the time like glass. It is my perfect row. I'm not a racer, I'm a cruise director. I'll row a wimpy Power Ten and stop and watch the little beaver swimming past me with twigs in his mouth. I'll stroke a bit further and go closer to the fallen trees on the shore and watch the turtles that are as big as dinner plates laying asleep in the morning sun. I'll stop and watch the hot air balloon coming over the tree line for their morning ride and listen as they fire up to go higher.
It was a bucket list thing, learning to row, and I started rowing at 55. Now, during the pandemic, it is my/our peaceful respite to go to the lake and spend some time cruising the water and seeing the houses with their beautiful gardens, watching the wildlife as they go about their lives. We row and feel the breeze on our faces while we can knowing that sooner than later the lake will host ice skaters and Christmas decorations.
We smell the lake taking in every breath with gratitude for time on the water and the peace of enjoying those scents as we row. We inhale that smell that only a summer lake can have. We watch the fish jump in front of us and leave the rings of water that disappear just like the fish that was just there a second ago. We watch mama duck swim with her babies in tow to a spot where all are safe.
It is a vision that rowers understand...I will stroke the glassy water and marvel at what I think are perfect puddles. Probably not perfect, but I think they are when I see them in that perfect water. I am not the rowing athlete, I don't have perfect stroke every time. I have decent blade depth and sometimes I wiff my starboard because I'm too busy looking at the baby ducks. But I have the love of the sport and the gratitude for those mornings with beautiful puddles and what feels like perfection with every single stroke.
I am so grateful that during this time when the hubs and I are benched from work that I have had time to get out there. Grateful for the time with him since he travels so much. Grateful for peace on the water and...
those perfect puddles!
Take time, find peace, take it in and be grateful.
