I’m one of the first to cross the threshold of the river into the canyon. The squeals that greeted me for last year’s retreat echo softly, then dissipate. I survey the dock and envision who stood where, who sat where, who clicked cameras. I remember skin-against-skin in hugs and handshakes.
All’s silent now, still, save for the gentle lapping of the Frio. The dock’s a ‘jumble with overturned, drained canoes and kayaks, the “small boats of skins” as the Inuit called them.
More of us will come soon . . .
Follow the flow over to The High Calling where I’m sharing reflections today from the Writers’ Retreat at Laity Lodge. Come on. You know you want to.
… oh that first compelling photo says it all …
These rockers were new this year. Oh. My.
wow an awesome experience for you all.
It’s an awesome place, Sharon.
Your post was so good. And the photos? Gorgeous too.
Thank you! I can’t wait to hear about your time there. Only wish I could share it with you. 🙂