Dad and I planned our day around the hockey game. Pretty much counted down to the 8 o'clock puck drop and completed what was needed before faceoff.
Puttered around over at Matty's cottage. His basement renos are coming along very well. There is much landscaping to do. I'll stick up my hand for that role: building a couple retaining walls around the septic, lay a path way out of the exposed rock, turn the wood scraps into benches & burn the balance. Fun stuff. Outdoor grunt work. Something I've been in short supply of the past 5yrs.
Was craving a Wild Orchid Thai feed so I booted to Minden in the 335x. Clear country road sailing. Hard to argue with really, but did have to restrain the desire to open it up.
Walked back into the cottage at ten to 8. Plenty of time to settle in, dish out the grub and watch CBC usher in a playoff game. Still getting used to the absence of their theme song. Picked Talbot to have a good game. 2 goals and 1st star later he and the Pens were celebrating a necessary victory. Good to talk hockey with Pete.
By midnight I was replying to some birthday notes and uploading wedding pics when three random dudes knocked on the outside glass door. WTF? Turns out they had been paddling Moose & Eagle lake for the past 6hrs. Morons. The sun had set 3hrs earlier. They paddled from Moose, through the narrows, up to the Inn and over to the Pink Palace. They had been drifting, following the shore, trying to get back home. They were successfully lost. I drove them home.
On my return trip to the cottage, solo, I had a throwback. The sky hosted a near full moon. Bright. Left little space for the stars to shine. The lake was dead calm - a skiers dream - and the moon rays brushed its surface. I rolled the windows down, turned the stereo volume up - had an old Gomez disc playing - and recalled the late nights when Dad would take me for a boat ride under the light of the moon. We'd be the only sound on the lake. The only movement in the still calm. Our hull cutting through the glass. The closest feeling to flight on water.
I geared down to slow the truck. Wanted the midnight view of the Bahamas to last. The ski hill chair lifts reflected the moon and in between tracks I caught the call of a loon. They're likely nesting again over on the island.
Arrived home, parked the truck and walked to the dock. The moon's reflection shone all the way across Eagle to my seat. I sat back, put my feet up on the railing and took a number of deep breaths. Cleared the lungs. Looked up at the night sky only to spot the moon and one clear big dipper. The loon's voice interrupted the silence. Within a minute, he reached out again. I cupped my hands and echoed a response. I think he was wishing me a happy birthday.
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