There has been a lot of magic about the place lately. Hot autumn nights offer spectacular moon-sets and lovely morning swimming weather. In the words of one Zoe Lindsey at age 4 “I’m gonna tell you a story”.
On Wednesday last I couldn’t convince myself that getting to work before 9am was more important than a swim. At almost 7am the sun wasn’t above the hills just yet, but there was more than enough light to see that it was going to be a beautiful day. I put on my togs (read: bathers) and headed down the hill, through the ravine and on to the beach. It was still fisherman o’clock, but I picked a spot between two reasonably spaced fisherfolk and swam out deep so as not to disturb their sport. The light hadn’t hit the water yet but I could see all the way to the bottom – so clearly that I didn’t realise just how deep I was out. More floating than swimming, a dragonfly passed over head, and then as I glanced accross the water a school of tiny silver fish took turns jumping out of the water. They reminded me of sheep, only smaller and shinier. You know…
Conscious of the time I decided to head home and swim lazily back in to shore as the sun peaks over the ridge. It’s slowly getting noiser on the beach as the fisherfolk pack up and the dog walkers begin arriving. After a rinse at the shower I took a minute to sit and watch the morning light on the water. Looking over to where I was swimming only a few moments ago there are fins in the water. It’s a dolphin and her baby gently swimming aimlessly. What a perfect start to the day.
Oh my, the morning swim sounded wonderful.
Reminded me of my early wakings on the Lake Huron shore on a Sunday and going out to swim parallel with the shore for oh such long ways. The sun energy hadn’t gotten the waves going and the water would be like glasss. I would swim silently trying not to disturb the serenity.
One morn I had company when the loons who lived in the stream nearby came out with their little ones and the babies jumped off their moms back (or was it dad’s) anyway they swam towards me and the parents were right after them making the loon sounds over and over. I continued to swim but as i turned to catch a breath I could see the little ones getting closer and closer.
What a priviledge to share the water with them. Apparently the loon noises must have become very parental and the little ones slowed till their parents caught up. You know, they really were not slow —–just terribly cautious.
Brian, I found the pic—“Under the Wall”
How can I get one?????
Hugs to you both
Yay, what fun ^_^
I will dig in our arty boxes + see if I can’t find the original ‘Under the Wall‘, it’s just a tiny watercolour I did when we lived in Oakland ‘cos I didn’t have any space for my usual messy spread 😉
OHHHHHHHHH YEAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!
How special
Can’t compete with all that. We don’t swim here, unless you wish to become a member of the Polar Bear Club…