Whenever I leave my boat (or anything, for that matter) in the backyard, the neighborhood cat pisses on it, but even the the stench of that dripping on to my head as I carried my boat to the car did not increase my anger. I was redlined already.
So, anyway, cut to the chase: by the time I got back out of the water, my anger had morphed into anxiety and remorse. So what happened? Was it the exercise? The interaction with the wildlife? The greetings the folks fishing from the canal threw my way? The fact that the geese on Prairie Creek weren't as bitchy as they usually are? It certainly wasn't nature bountiful spirit enclosing me in a infinitely loving hug that did it.
And I suppose it doesn't matter. The fact is I got into my boat and by the time I got back home all anger had dissipated and the "crisis" had been resolved. I guess part of it was that Newnan's Lake--ever-changing, moody Newnan's Lake--was something that lay outside my anger and the situation that precipitated it. Simply being on it shifted something inside me. When my son was an infant, I would calm his temper tantrums by giving him a hot bath. By the time he got out, without fail, he was his jovial self again. This was kinda like that.
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