Row Boats at Wareham

Anne and I sit in the fitful October sun by the side of the river - bright sunlight silvers every ripple - heaped whitish grey clouds pass above us in a pale blue sky - a gang of cheeky ducks are on the prowl for crumbs or portions of chips - we've seen seagulls, like playground bullies, almost wrench chips from children's fingers during the summer - but now, none of them are around -

The row boats have bright hulls, and are chained to small bollards on the riverside - during the summer, they are for hire - robust barelegged girls drag them into the warm river for the visitors - you can  be swept downstream by the tide, below the white town bridge - drifting between the lines of the yachts moored to both sides of the river - from the causeway, you can see the masts of the yachts, like bare trees -

In the summer, boys jump off the bridge, feet first, into the deep pools by the piers - joshing each other as they perch on the the warm stones -

When you row upstream, you must dip the oars carefully into the swirling water - feeling the current against the thin wooden hull of your boat - tall reeds, rustling in the wind, fringe the water meadows - the branches of old oak trees cast shadows on the water - you lose yourself in the moment, in the movement of light upon the river -