Misty Morning Paddle

I woke up early one day at the camp.  Several of my friends have told me that it is the best part of the day.  Can you believe an insomniac?  I went for a paddle to see.

Heading East

 The dew hangs on the spider webs and makes them so much more visible.  I had no idea that there were so many spiders, or that they wove webs practically everywhere.

Web for catching dive bombing bugs.

Another web out in the weeds in the water.
How do the spiders get there?

The shoreline grays in the distance.

A team effort.

All to myself.

Well, maybe not completely to myself.

How do you dew?

Glistening weed grass.

The dead tree has been there for many years.
All the others are gone...when will it fall?

The fog lifted a little on Lily Lake, a wider spot in the stream,
but still lurked above.

The geese were unconcerned.

There is a mountain back there.  Honest.

Lone loon lounging.

Colorful beneath the gray.

Excellent skills, nicely displayed.

 Almost home, I passed by another paddler who told me the location of a fine bush, loaded with blueberries.  I had to determine the veracity of his report.  

Truth is its own reward.