It's a hot, humid and still day, one where, as much as I don't want to be blown out of my canoe or turned into charcoal by a misdirected (or perhaps perfectly aimed) lightning bolt, I would not mind a bit of a thunderstorm. Anything distant much more than a quarter mile has a blue-grey tone to it, such is the humidity.
Soon after passing under the bridge that forms the gate to the "other side" I start pushing a great blue heron...400 yds, 400 yds, 400 yds, then 200 yds, 200 yds, 200 yds, then 100 yds, and finally 50 yds before it flies low out and across the big river. Each time, it stopped in a pile of deadfalls, never on open bank. I wonder if it was getting used to me and figuring that I was a bother and not a threat.
It is weather in which you can feel the change coming. Temperature in the upper 80's, I can feel it cool a few degrees in just five minutes. That change signals some cold rain, if not here, then close. It arrives here, a light cool sprinkle that also filters out the sound of the built world beyond the river banks. Rain transports one much farther away, if only for the moment. It ceases in 10 minutes.
A gentle wind comes up out of the east, putting a shimmy to the deciduous leaves of the long island on that side of me. Rain again, somewhere. Somewhere west of me a bunch of air is moving vertical and pulling air in from all around. It rains somewhere, just not here. The breeze feels good.