Kayaking

I bought a kayak and I named her Rhy (pron. Rhee).  She's for going out on the Kentucky River and maybe I'll haul her out to a local lake or two at some point as well.  Don't worry, the Kentucky River is tame when the weather conditions are appropriate for kayaking....it is divided by dams and locks into what the fish and wildlife management system calls "pools".  We were in pool number seven.  The current is very manageable.  If it weren't, I would not go out.

This is pure joy for me.  I never knew until my goddaughter invited me along and let me borrow her boat one day.  I was hooked.

Yesterday we went down to the Kentucky River at Highbridge and set into the water, paddling upstream and into the Dix river.  It was gorgeous.  There was mist on the Dix, and the water was colder and clearer than the Kentucky river.  The current wasn't bad, but it was a bit of a workout.  Eventually we paddled far enough that we found a water fall and were able to pull our boats up and get out and explore a littel bit.  Mossy rocks, ferns, folliage, and fresh water.

While we were at the water fall we heard a snuffling, huffing, barking sound among the underbrush.  We never saw the critter, but it moved from above us to off to one side.  Shudder.  The horrors!  But when we moved around more and talked louder it hunkered down and got still and quiet or slunk away.  We never saw whatever it was.

I've been stuck on Psalm 23 since well before Wes died, and yesterday the line about "He leads me beside still waters, He restores my soul and guides my life in righteousness for His name's sake..." stood out to me.

Just because I'm having a moment of joy out in nature doesn't mean I don't feel instantly sad again at the drop of a hat.  Grief is like that.  My mood can turn on a dime.  It's good to get outdoors.  I spent four years in caregiver mode, so it's been a long time and I've missed it, so I'm grateful for the chance, at least.