We’re both on the front with the autopilot set. Actually, the old tub tops out at 6.7mph with a tailwind; consequently course corrections at the helm are only necessary every several minutes. We can’t believe the scent of all the blossoms pouring from the shores. We aren’t sure if they are berry blooms, multiflora rose or some mix thereof as it changes discernibly from week to week and place to place. It’s as strong as any imagined sachet -– of course naturally more delightful as it mixes with lake smell. We are both acting like a couple of fools repeatedly going “hmmmm, Hmmmm, HMMMMMM” breathing in as much as we are able, coupled with a growing urge to become more intoxicated by the gift and sex of native plant life.