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The Wizard, the Flute, the Boat and the Wind
By Bud Stefanski, Adams, MA
Cabin fever and an acquired aversion to cold, combined with being loath to not take advantage of the expensive heat which I must recompense the Power Barons for anyway, were the reasons a trip inside was my next photo journey taken.
As many times noted, the "Wiz" and the "spinally challenged" flautist, along with wind—be it zephyr, gale or gust—holds my attention. Add the boat. I constructed this little model to match a rowboat from my youth.
It was a favorite (and really easy to row) contrivance made of cypress wood, and brought up North from the "Southeren" (a Sea Chantey dialect word) swampland. The design was somewhat similar to a pirogue, and was longer and narrower than the typical manually powered non-speed boats of that day. It had a shallow draft and five seats instead of the normal three. It was a joy to row, easier to get into than a kayak, less tipsy than a canoe, and cheaper to operate than a Chris-Craft. A fine boat altogether. I miss it dearly.
The wind on the lake would hit the gunwales and splash the occupants, especially in early autumn when the foam from sea life would cover the surface. Mostly now I am a landlocked landlubber and mouse potato, with only a mouse click or key tap as my substitute for the hand-blistering heave-ho of the oars, muscle strain of the biceps, hard-seated pressure upon the tailbone, and Spartan well-being of the open air.
Aye! A quasi-Viking I was. Later on I did a tiny bit of gung-ho drill on a rubber raft in the ocean, but it was not the same. That was duty and not fun.
The wind this winter has been noticeable. It reminded me of long-ago lake winds.
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