Water

I've been taking the opportunity the past few days, of spending some of the hot afternoon in the lake. Being accustomed to a highly-chlorinated, heated pool, jumping into the cold murky water has taken some adjustment. But, oh, is it nice . . . The interesting thing about lake water is the temperature differentiation. You swim through pockets of rather warm water, and then pockets of very cold water. The lake is fed primarily from underground springs. Whether that affects the temperature variations, or it's just a product of water rising to the surface and falling, I don't know. What I do know is that there is something magical about floating in a spring-fed mountain lake in the summer as I am bombarded by the varying sensations and shrouded by trees. What was at first a bit shocking to the system, now heals my spirit.

The other night, my kind husband could see I needed some me-time, and since he was miraculously home before dark, I took him up on his offer of heading out on my own whilst he was home with the boys. I hiked down to showerbath falls. By myself. In the cool evening. You see, I've done this short hike before, but usually with a child on my back and one traipsing ahead and behind and all around. In the heat of the afternoon. So, I took my time. I stopped at the pools on the way down. I smelled the air. I listened to the water. I sat on the bank of the pool and felt the spray of the falls. I even climbed up behind the water. It cleared my head. And my soul. Did I mention I live in Fairyland?

Last night the thunder began about 9:00. Just in time to wake Ethan from his tenuous state of sleep. I laid by him to calm his thunder-fear. And I listened to the rain fall. Pounding. Cleaning. God bathing the earth.