The End of the Summer

"And the colors are much brighter now,
It's like they really want to tell the truth,
We give our testimony to the end of summer,
It's the end of summer, you can spin the light to gold." Dar Williams

This weekend was so soul-satisfying on some fundamental levels. That was nice, because I'd been all existentially weird and had some hurt feelings to deal with, so that had been sucking pretty hard.

I taught nature photography at a woman's retreat, the concept of which is enough to really give me hives most of the time, but it was good. My classes went well, and the ladies were fun, and they seemed to get a lot out of it. I showed some of my work from the past year, and it was well-received. I knew things were working out when I turned around to see a lady from my afternoon group  on her back in the grass under some trees, taking pictures from what I call "creative angles." And she really wanted me to see what she'd envisioned in the shot, and was having such a good time - which is really what's it's all about to me anyway. I really liked seeing them all getting into it. I just wish it had been a month from now because the trees will be insanely beautiful at that point and I'm in love with fall photos. As it happened we focused on quality of light and composition stuff, and that was fine anyway.

 

That leaf was just suspended in midair...freaky.

The highlights otherwise were as follows:

*Spending some time with my friend who went and roomed with me, who is one of the greatest ladies on this planet, no joke.  We can just talk and talk...and considering I can talk and talk on my own, it's nice to find someone who can not only keep up, but can interject frequently so I have something interesting to respond to.

*Running the last-minute roommate - the North Face girl - out of the room because I snore. I totally warned them, and would have felt worse if she was at all nice.

*Best of all, I went kayaking for the first time. I loved it. It was outstanding. It was the most beautiful experience I've had in nature, and it was awesome because I am so...not an athlete, or a...boater? But I trusted Helen when she offered me a spot on the paddling trip, and I am so glad. I told some students today that the benefit of getting older when you're like me is that you really don't care much what people think anymore. The fear of "looking stupid" is no longer the golden ticket out of anything, really. Actually, it's kind of a motivator these days. "Hey, dress me up in a clown suit!" "Throw a rainbow boa around my neck and make me sing my least-favorite Supremes song on a stage underneath unflattering bright lights when I'm at maximum density!" "Stick me on a porch with James the Brewmaster and laugh at me and take my picture!" "Make me pose like a groundhog at Jazzfest!" Bring. it. on. baby. cakes.

No, really, I was so proud because I didn't fall out of the damned kayak. I got in it all by myself, and sat down in the appropriate position (the "diamond position", naturally). At first I didn't understand how the oars worked, because, as I said, I am not a seafarer in any way, shape or form, unless fruity drinks or perhaps a good beer and a sea shanty are involved. So I kind of dorked around in the shallow water because the boat kind of drifted off of its own accord. I started to go downstream, away from my fellow paddlers, and I couldn't get the damned thing to turn around! I squeaked, "Hello, I'm drifting away," but no one was paying attention. I tried not to freak out and flailed around with the big ass oar and poked at the rocks on the bank and dug the oar into the silt, until I accidentally figured out how to move in a circle and got myself back in the right direction. And the very buff kayak girl (who also sea kayaks and, I shit you not, ICE kayaks. The concept of doing that outside of a rescue mission is quite alien to me, but then again I just learned how to turn a kayak around in tepid shallows, so maybe that's why) was very calm about the whole thing, and was, in effect, probably the most badass extremely perky person I've ever met. (Please note the extremely complimentary nature of that comment, coming from me.)

When I finally drifted back down half-accidentally, and feeling very grateful but a little bit proud too ("HELLO! I DID NOT FLOAT ALL THE WAY DOWN THE CANAL IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION! HELLO! LOOK AT HOW COOL I AM. I AM STILL ALIVE, BY THE WAY.") she just said, "Oh, good, you made it back," in a way that told me that she'd been looking at me bumping into rocks and poking through branches, and that was kind of funny.

So I paddled the thing about a half mile down the C&O Canal, and took some pictures of ducks and pretty rock formations and was able to balance the camera AND my oar, which is pretty good for a non-seafarer such as myself who is at times very directionally challenged. And occasionally I made like Bill Murray in "What About Bob" and said to myself, "Ahoy! I sail now! I'm sailing!" because that's what my sister and I would have been saying to each other had she been there. Otherwise I worked very hard at paddling in the right direction so as to not run into huge rocks, and I enjoyed the beautiful (perfect, really) day, and felt a new feeling, which was awesome. It's so good to experience new things, especially things that are far outside your realm of experience. It might not seem like a big deal, but I guess to me it is. Today I was sore as hell from the rowing, but I didn't really feel it too much because the experience was so worth it.

When I got home I was beat. I mean, I was incredibly tired. I passed out for a couple of hours, and considered bagging the Dar Williams show last night, but I couldn't. I went with a very wonderful person, and we had a great time, although I was afraid she'd be a bit mellow for his tastes. It was Dar solo, acoustic (electric acoustic, but still...no band) and she was really fantastic. Sometimes her music makes me miss certain feelings so much that it's almost too painful to listen to, but that wasn't the case this time and I was glad. She was chill and funny. Her guitar work was good, and her voice sounded so, so good. My friend looked at me when it was over and said, "That was lovely," and I don't think this was anything like anything I'd ever heard him say before. It was just that kind of a weekend.

Comments

[jonny]

jonny