Hi! I'm Grace Evans and this is Dry Spell, my weekly letter of off-season reflections on canoeing.
The second time I took Marie canoeing, I didn’t tell her before I picked her up. Marie is a niece-like figure in my life. She’s nine-years-old and increasingly resistant to outdoor activity and exercise. The first time we canoed I made the mistake of taking her out on a sweltering day. This time I didn’t tell her we’d be canoeing until Scott and I picked her up around dinner time.
“What?” she said. “It’s too late! We can’t go!” I told her I got to see the sunset when I paddled in the evening the week before.
“But I’m wearing a dress!” Marie said, holding the sides of her sundress up and out, like a cartoon demonstrating how little money they have by pulling out the insides of empty pockets. I reassured her that canoeing in a dress was possible. Her mom nodded, though I hadn’t told her about canoeing ahead of time either. “You’ll be fine, babe.”
At the canoe launch, Marie lowered herself into the boat, noting that she wasn’t scared like last time. Since we had a canoeing history to build on, I made references to our first trip. “Remember last time when you saw the mink?” I asked her. “You said it was a squirrel,” she said. Some of Marie’s most cherished memories are times I was wrong about something.
Scott, Marie and I paddled around the marsh and pointed out birds and animals to each other. It was cool and the water was still. Scott recited overly detailed bird identification information to Marie and I watched her listen. She used to be intensely shy around Scott and now here she was, politely listening and asking questions. We watched terns swoop and dive and sometimes fight each other for food.
We were heading west when I asked Scott, who was steering, if we could turn around and retrieve some garbage I saw floating near the middle of the marsh. The water was perfectly still and the item bobbed less than 30 feet away, but he didn’t want to. “Please?” I said, “It’s so close.” Marie took my side and so he guiltily steered us over. I put my paddle down, stuck out my left hand and grabbed a transparent slushie cup with a thick red straw, two-thirds full of diluted red liquid and heavily polluted marsh water. I tipped it over so I wouldn’t bring all the dirty sugary drink into the canoe and Marie and I watched the red straw fall out of the cup and glide down, down, down, disappearing into the murky water.
Marie: Why did you dump the red straw?
Me: I was dumping the slushie.
Marie: I hope a fish doesn’t get stuck in it.
Scott: Yeah it might do more harm now.
Me: Guys! I didn’t mean to.
Marie: I can’t believe you dropped the cup!
Scott: Why did you dump it out?
Me: I didn’t want the red juice in the boat?!
Marie: So you poured it into the water? That’s even worse for the fish.
Me: I’m sorry guys!
Scott: I guess we know who cares more about the environment.
Scott and Marie smiled at each other smugly. As the sun set, the clouds were changing by the minute: soft fluffy purple with highlighter pink edges. We took so many pictures, and Marie laughed at me exclaiming how beautiful it was so I made an even bigger production of capturing the perfect shot.
Two weeks later we were back at the marsh in the evening, by Marie’s request.
Marie: We haven’t seen very much garbage this time.
Me: Well I guess we’ve cleaned it all up!
Marie: Except for the straw.
Me: I collected garbage here all summer! I only lost that one straw!
Marie: Maybe a fish is stuck in that straw right now.
She brought up The Straw Incident this week when I saw her for a walk, and I know it won’t be the last time. She’s also fond of bringing up the time I assured her my dog wouldn’t mistake pond scum as solid ground seconds before he fell in. But if teasing me helps her get outside more, I’m fine with it. I’m sure I’ll make enough mistakes to keep her laughing.
Thanks for reading Dry Spell. I’d love to know what you think; please feel free to leave a comment or reply to this email!
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Great little story. Couldn't stop reading. Didn't know anything about carp. Thanks.
I look forward to reading about your adventures.