When I get up in the wee hours of the morning, here at the cottage on the banks of the river bordering our neighbors in Canada, the night is black and the river invisible. Across the wide expanse, a spattering of lights bleakly dot the night horizon. Occasionally the quiet is interrupted by a series of 10 to15 waves washing the shore. And we know a ship has passed in the night. If said ship be under diesel power it telegraphs it's coming and passing by the steady drumming of it's pistons throbbing through the night air.


Regularly a freight train whistles it's passing, through the countryside across the way; it's sound effortlessly traversing the open space above the river and lets us feel that is nearer to our door.

Tonight, I stand at the window to peer at the blackness and my gaze is greeted by the lights of a great lakes "laker" anchored just down river a 1/2 mile or so. It is lit up so brightly as to make me think that a city has materialized magically from the depths of our majestic river. From past experience I know that with the dawning of the morn. this city will churn up river and be gone from the sight of those arising too late to witness the magic of their river in the night.