Gibban

Sun has returned to the NW for the day. I portage up and over the hill to Lake Union passing through a schoolyard during its pre-class-recess-energy-burn-off session. Kids are usually fascinated by the canoe and sometimes, adults become kids when theysee the canoe. There is more wind than I expected, a stiff one out of the NW that I paddle into while I am on the east shore. When I get even to Gasworks Park, I cross over to it and get in the wind shadow of the west shoreline. Then just a hazy minded paddle east through Portage Bay and the Crossing Under Place. Today is taking on the feeling of a deep-soak, a day when I use my eyes and ears and let everything come and let everything go. I've noticed that after being away for a few days, it takes me a few more to bring my head back into the rhythm of the marsh. The new cattails are now as tall or taller than last years dried and matted pods. I sit in the east marsh, near where several marsh wren nests are, and soak. The nests are too ...