I don't know what it is about March, but I find myself driving down a little side road, kind of a "long-cut" to my house, drawn by the brown grasses and swirling eddies of a river that runs pretty high and fast this time of year.
I drive over the bridge and slow way down, looking out over the river.
If I'm not holding up traffic, I'll pull over and the kids and I will just look out the windows at the scenery.
I'm not sure what they are thinking, other than, "nice river." But what I'm thinking, this time of year anyway, is about how badly I want to... canoe on it. I'm not actually a canoer, but something about the way this river wends its way through the reeds and cattails gets my blood pumping.
I can almost hear the water lapping up along the side of the canoe, my paddle slicing through the water, peace and happiness right here in my own little suburban corner of the world.
Someday, I hope to do it.
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