Tag Archives: evening

A Little Evening Adventure

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Last night was a full moon. I got invited to go along on a moonlight paddle in Burlington. Lots of people have taken moonlight paddles, myself among them. Being on the water at night when the moon shines is a treat not to be missed. I’d say it’s a must do experience. Last night, however, I was a novice. I went stand up paddleboarding.

Stand up paddleboarding is basically taking a surf board out with a tall paddle. You stand up and move around by, well, paddling. I had done plenty of canoeing and felt comfortable with that. I can balance. I felt pretty much good to go. And I was. I got the hang of it quickly. I went with a group led by Rachael Miller of Stormboarding. Here is a photo of hers, to give you an idea what it looks like:

Copyright Stormboarding

Copyright Stormboarding

The problem was, although I had seen photos and had talked to Rachael about it, I had never done it. And since we would be heading out after dark, I wasn’t going to see it last night either, at least not all that well. There was a full moon and I did wear a headlamp, but still, it was dark. Anyway, it was a blast, and an experience, all told, that most people probably won’t have. Here is why: we combined stand up paddleboarding, a full moon, a still summer Vermont evening, and an exuberant and confident punk rock band.

I was the first to greet Rachael, and the punk band was already getting started, playing at a pavilion right on the waterfront. I signed the three page waiver and then tied glow sticks to the shoulders of my life vest. Since we were out at night we needed lights, being watercraft, to be legal and, more importantly, to be visible to anyone else on the water. Red glow stick on the left, green glow stick on the right. The headlamp served as the white light which should be visible from any direction, but was close enough. As the others arrived we all tied on lights, carried boards to the dock and, after some instruction and a couple of photos, started paddling.

The band was really hammering it out by the time we curved around past the Coast Guard station, yelling and, seemingly, having a fun time of it. The moon was climbing, with Mars along to keep it company. The water shone. We moved together stealthily. It wasn’t the peaceful paddle that some had expected but it was a good time nonetheless. We moved pretty quickly without any wind or waves and paddled right into a cloud of skunk spray. If we had had anything tasty to snack on it would have been a true five senses experience. We turned around at what Rachael identified as, showing off her knowledge of nautical terminology, the “can thingees,” drums of some kind, in the water for a purpose I could not discern (to tell the truth, I couldn’t really see them). We hugged the shore and cruised back to the dock.

We were out for about an hour and, as we drifted in and pulled the boards out of the water, the band packed it up for the evening. I had fun and would surely do that again, even if it were regular old daytime. I doubt I again will get to experience paddling standing up and a full moon and Mars and a warm September night and perfect calm on Lake Champlain and the inspired lyric of “Weapons Factory!” pelted out over the odor of skunk. If you find yourself experiencing such a mix, do let me know. We’ll compare notes.

Rain Situation

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It isn’t raining at the moment.  Well, maybe it is raining a little, but barely.  The sun is setting and we have that rare light when the bright sun shines under the clouds, coloring them steel gray and blasting the green hills with brightness.  It won’t last long.  The distant mountain tops are bright and I can see that rain falls there, and the shadows are creeping.

It has rained for a couple of days straight.  I planted flower seeds with the children on Tuesday afternoon, before dinner.  Then it rained.  And rained.  It is Friday now, about the same hour we planted the seeds.  Three days of wet.  I think they have gotten enough water to germinate.

I have not needed to uncoil the hose to water the garden.  In fact, I have been afraid that the garden has been getting too much water.  Last summer we had a wet spell that ruined some of our crops, including carrots.  They rotted in the ground.  Nothing I planted is so advanced that it will rot but this rain might keep some seeds from starting as I would like.  We’ll have to see what happens.

A hermit thrush tosses out its flutey voice over the wet trees behind the house.   It is an unassuming bird, what you might call an LBJ, a Little Brown Jobber, so similar to so many other bland birds.  Its voice, however, stops me at times.  Milton and Shakespeare and all those other dead English bards wrote about the nightingale, another thrush, whose voice trilled through the woods with sweetness.  I am sure they would have written their odes to the hermit thrush had they lived in Vermont.

We will likely get more rain showers over the next couple of days, but I am hoping the sun will come out to feed the new leaves on our squash plants and to warm the soil so the flowers will grow.  But that won’t happen until tomorrow.  Right now the land quiets.  The air is still, filled with moisture, heavy.  A robin adds to the thrush’s song.  Spring peepers and wood frogs sing out from the pond over the hill.  The light grows grayer.

It is not raining, but the rain has set the scene for a perfect early evening in spring.  Time to slide on some boots and head out there to smell it and feel it.