Cold water, hot sun

For jo(e) and Mayberry, who asked.

In early October the McKenzie River is just barely deep enough to raft; we kept joking that if any of the kids fell out of the boat, they could just stand up. The water would be swirling around their knees. Every time we made the joke, though, we'd sternly tell the kids BUT DON'T FALL OUT – because folks, that river is cold. It's cold enough to stop your heart. It's so cold you can't get used to it; you can only resign yourself to the impossibility of ever again being warm.

Our friends own the raft; it's a fairly small one with just one set of oars; and I'm an inexperienced boater anyway, so I sat on the back with my son and our friends' son, worrying about keeping them warm and laughing. It turns out that two eight-year-old boys – encouraged, perhaps, by two grown men – can entertain themselves with songs about certain smelly bodily functions and jokes about knocking other people senseless, particularly little sisters, for three hours.

The day we rafted happened to be my eleventh wedding anniversary. I suppose it's a little odd to spend an anniversary with another couple and their child, but we had a great time. About two hours in, we pulled ashore at a natural beach, in the deliciously warm sun, and my friend took this picture of us.

Ha!