They were proud parents, a pair of loons, a silhouette in the blue sky, heads breaching the surface, the black and white pattern draped over their backs like a geometric blanket. And, every spring, these loons would glide by the point where I live, so close as to be swallowed by the shade from our…
The two teenage boys dragged the faded green Old Town canoe through lily pads, luxurious with white and yellow flowers, until the canoe floated off the sandbar. This particular canoe, a descendent of the 19th century Old Town Maine heritage, had weathered numerous encounters with rocky shorelines, evidenced by bruised wooden gunnels and patches of…
Sheltering with the Loons 