On Saturday I woke up to silence except for the trickling of water from the artesian overflow outside my bedroom window. The bed had never felt so comfortable, so I went back to sleep for a time. Nobody around but me. No means of being reached by anyone. No expectations.
When I woke again I made coffee and enjoyed it on the porch. Again, the silence. I took an outdoor shower, dressed, and took my boat to a small inland lake not far away. The day was hot and windy. On the way, I stopped at a food truck and got myself a breakfast sandwich. The lady looked at my boat and asked me where I was taking it in this wind, as the channel and the big water was all rolling swells and white caps.
The lake I went to just after breakfast is only 8 feet deep on average, so no matter how windy it gets the water is never that threatening. Before morning was over I had caught a lovely walleye and a little bluegill, and promptly took them home, cleaned them, and cooked them up for lunch as fresh as could possibly be had.
Again. The silence.
Satiated, I slept again. A long afternoon nap until the sun settled into a golden glow. The wind persisted. Before it got dark, I hauled a recliner down to the beach. After it got dark, I brought a down comforter down there with me, as well as a drink, some water, a doobie, and my spyglass monocular for star gazing. The rhythmic waves pounded a meditative trance into my brain, and I disassociated for hours down there.
At last I collected myself and went home to shower and sleep.
I may have never had a finer day.