Hey, Wyo, me canoe es su canoe! I don't have one of those lovely wood and canvas canoes but you are right on the money with your comment about serenity.

We'll start at dawn, slipping the canoe into the water on a cold October morning. The sun will rise before us and the forest will flare with color as the sunlight touches on the leaves. In the distance a loon will give us one last lonely call before migrating away for the winter. There will be no breeze and the lake surface will be like glass. It will be so still that we will feel compelled to speak in whispers and take care not to strike the gunnel of the canoe with our paddles. Down in the shallows there will be a splash and, as we quietly paddle closer, we will hear more splashes. Around a soggy hummock surrounded by clumps of reeds we'll find a bull moose up to his shoulders in the water, head down, feeding on the weeds growing on the bottom. As he raises his head the water will cascade from his rack of antlers. A quick shake of the head and suddenly he is surrounded by rainbows glinting in the dawn light.

And we will bless the dawn and the day.