Sunday morning, it was so strange to watch the same weather I watched Saturday morning, from two different points of view.
Saturday morning was in the middle of cove, then on the lake, then back into another cove, mist shrouding everything, damp, warm, enveloping. That one lake, it’s a special place, the early morning, I still had a warm cup of coffee, the fishing was excellent, the weather was more than obliging, that mist falling down around everything giving it a false, eerie silence. It never looked like it would really rain, but we had several hours of clouds feeling like those big cotton balls of moisture were just a few feet off the deck.
Sunday morning was the trailer’s porch, such as it is. Saturday morning was before dawn, Sunday morning, suffice it to suggest that I slept in pretty late, like almost until 7:30 AM. Big difference. That mist on the lake wasn’t the same. It had already started to burn away, evaporate into nothingness.
Then I checked the time. Saturday morning, we’d been on the lake for several hours, Sunday, I was just barely on the porch for a few minutes. Although it was early and still relatively quiet, it wasn’t the same. Saturday, I got to see the sun burn through the mist, the wind ruffle the waters, the effect of the gradually dawning day, perhaps one of the most beautiful times to be out and in the water. Sunday, it was just the tail end of the mist burning off, and it was from a vantage point of being a few yard away, and few yards up, from the water’s surface. By 9 on Saturday morning, the mist looked a lot like it did on Sunday morning, only, I thought, for a little while, that it wasn’t the same until I realized I was just catching the very last of the show Sunday whereas Saturday I’d been out there in its splendor for the whole event.
