I forgot how beautiful the beach was in the early morning. So beautiful and serene and perfect. Some man was bringing his canoe down to the water. It was unpainted wood and gleamed in the morning sunlight. I walked past as he was pushing off, and he waved to me. I almost asked him for a ride. I thought there would be nothing so perfect as canoeing on a calm clear lake. I skipped some stones, and two sunk in a desultory fashion but one went skimming far touching down seven or eight times. The sand was warm and lovely.