Earth Image Photography, Nature Photography, My Summer Office

6:20 p.m.-

Traffic was lousy commuting to the office tonight. The boat landing turn-about was moderately obstructed by a pickup truck with an empty Jetski trailer attached. A bad omen. My secret shortcut was blocked by a small fishing skiff anchored crosswise to the channel, bow and stern in the weeds at both ends. Nothing to do (short of watery disruption) but travel the long way, past Hickwater's Backwoods Tavern and the cluster of cottages in a sharp bend near the highway. The neighborhood has installed NO WAKE signs at the edge of the banks, an unofficial plea to the discourteous. New channel markers have been added this year: bleach bottles spray-painted fluorescent orange bobbing dead-center in the stream, scrawled "NO WAKE," "WE MEAN IT, and Damnit!" We idle along through the wide passage; four people are fishing close to the reeds. The craft they're in is riding too low, it's made to float two small juveniles without shoes and it's sinking real slow. Watching closely as I edge the far side, they gesture and giggle and endanger their float. One stands to point at EZ who's riding the bow and a watery surge sloshes into their boat.

Rounding the bend approaches a growling speedboat, murmuring of violence from an engine quite huge, steered by a man in his twenties with a crew of four bickering young imps. It skirts past a downed tree, then straightens straight at me, who's trying to stay out of his way near the bank in the lee. Onward he comes, burbling with power, then turns a nudge north and slides by my gunwale with three inches to spare. I am aghast as he does this, there's plenty of other river. I guess it's a matter of pride. He shows no alarm, or even an "Oop," I seethingly watch the dumb nincompoop. The children reach out and pet EZ as they pass; the man smirks at me and says "hi." All I can do is ask "high?" On the transom: "SPURTIN' MY JET."

I am ready to escape and arrive at my office, flee from coarse doltery and horsepower adoration. Just as I pass the last cottage and prepare to make hurry, I saw a fast Jetski approach in a flurry. It spouted a high spray streaming, then curved and slowed down to pass through the narrows, where the big pine tree was leaning. I was pleased to see such a courtesy as that, it's rare from those pilots so I thanked God from right where I sat. I waited at the bank as the couple ascended, a guy and a girl clad brightly in flotation. Jetskis are steered by a jet and can turn on a dime, but only when speeding and having good times. But going real slow is not a Jetski's best trick, they look like a drunk who's about to be sick. This passage was weavy and tottery too, carrying two adult cadavers, cold and ice blue. The fun had run out. Girl on the back expulsed a grim sigh. The rear end was low, bow aimed at the sky.

A clamor of show, an impromptu pow-wow. I waited and watched. EZ stood on the rail and shouted "bow-wow."

When they were gone I pulled up anchor and started the motor. Around a bend or two farther I saw the pair confused in a marsh, the man was weeping, the gal was being harsh. He was turning and standing to peer over high grasses. When she saw me she hollered at him, "go back out right there, then turn left you dolt, you've run out of guesses."

Quickly they surpassed us with high fan and some flare, around the next curve and they're gone from our glare.

My office is cloudy tonight. Rain promised for days evaporates before it lands. The deerflies soar out of the woods and set into circling, then head away to pester a boat full of leisure passing out in the main stream.