The sails frame the clouds, like a door frame across the threshold of my home. I’m transported to the Missouri River, can feel the humidity in the thickness of the clouds, and smell the pungent odor of the water. The Missouri’s beauty is wide and deep, framed by cliffs and hills that buttress the prairie green grasses.
When I go to the River and sail, I slow down. A lot. It takes me a good while to slow down enough to enjoy the pace of the river culture. Folks stand by their boats and visit, kids jump off the top of a boat and float in the river. The heat rises from the white, plastic docks and cooks everything as the docks bob up and down in the water.
By evening, I’ll settle in at the boat for the sunset views. The flaming skies move slowly across the waters, outlining the boats in black silhouettes. A fisherman casts the last line, the boats slowly cruise into the lights of the bay. The gold of the setting sun melts into the horizon of the water. Vesperalis clouds, as the heat and convection of the day dissipate, appear as the tall cumulus clouds relax into the long, flat streaks of white and gray. Day is done.