A summer morning on the Eno River. The water was freezing and the sunshine was barely beginning to feel warm. I waded in with bare feet and icy toes but reveled in the ripples tickling the tops of my feet.
On the opposite bank there is an elevated path. Every couple of minutes, a new person with a new dog wanders past, and they wave to me standing in the water with pursed lips and a stiff hand. The dog sniffs in my direction.
Soon I draw my feet out and hike back up the small, sandy path to level ground, where my hammock hangs low between two slender trees.