the last swim of summer

“Sometimes I return back to the state of mind I had as a child when I believed nothing was impossible.”
― Jonathan Harnisch

I stood on the shore of the Lake Pend Oreille swimming in memories, bits and pieces of all the time spent on this beautiful lake as a child and teenager floating to the surface. My parents grew up here and my grandmothers both lived here, along with many of my parent’s siblings, and a slew of cousins. On this day I stood at the City Beach, getting ready for a swim - same City Beach where my mother pulled me out of the kiddy pool unconscious, the pink ruffled butt of my swimming suit sticking up out of the water as I floated face down. Of course I don’t remember any of this, but the story was told over and over throughout my childhood, with a reminder to anyone who took me to any body of water, that I was not afraid and to keep an eye on me.

Lake Pend Oreille is a large lake, the 38th largest lake in the US. It is also deep, 1,158 feet deep in places, with only four lakes in the US deeper. The water is never very warm, but during the summer, if we were on the lake, we were in it from morning to bedtime. Today I still prefer to swim in cold lakes posed to smaller warm lakes or pools. On this day it took me awhile to slip into the water, having checked the water temp and noting it was 63 degrees. But once I did, I didn’t want to get out. My husband had suited up and considered joining me, until he wadded in a bit, deciding instead to sit on the beach and cheer me on. After the swim we drove up and down the streets of Sandpoint as I tried, unsuccessfully to find my grandmother’s old homes.

The weekend was a deep dive into my childhood, starting with placing flowers on my parent’s graves and ending with a beautiful wedding on top of Schweitzer Mountain. Emotions flowed like the waves of this beautiful lake, and I didn’t fight them. On Sunday we jumped back in the car and headed to Coeur d’ Alene to visit some family and then on to my close friend’s lake cabin, where we spent a few nights.

We arrived back home, six days later to find Baker alive and well, eager to see us, our daughter-in-law I am sure, going above and beyond to spoil him and I feel blessed. I arrive home, knowing myself a little bit better, a little bit more confidant in the choices I have made with him to get us to this point in our lives. I arrive home happy and relaxed.

I tell you, cold water swimming will do that for you . . . bringing you back to your body, clearing out the clutter and doubts in your mind, setting the stage for what if’s, certainty, and a bit of tenacity.

see you, same time next week

“Travel brings power and love back into your life.

- Rumi

We leave tomorrow morning bright and early for a long awaited vacation of sorts. It starts out with a wedding and from there some time at one of my favorite lakes. It will be five or maybe even six days away, as we are playing it by ear. Both of us admitted to each other last night as we were packing, that we are a little bit nervous about the whole thing. Nine hours in the car, bathroom stops, eating out, lots of people, and staying in strange places. We packed extra masks, even a couple of Covid tests, and I feel ready to get back to life - to get out of town, to see some friends and extended family.

I will be offline, using my phone for weather reports, find a good restaurant, or maybe map out a walking trail. We have a couple books on tape, a few new playlists, and snacks. My Nikon is packed and I plan on keeping it in my lap as we drive.

And the dog . . . he is staying home with our daughter-in-law.

pockets of delight

Joy is different than happiness. Happiness is something that measures how good we feel over time. But joy is about feeling good right now, in the moment.

- Ingrid Fetell Lee

I am aware suddenly of pockets of joy that appear throughout my day unexpectedly. Sometimes it is a past memory that resurfaces, bringing with it a feeling of elation that I allow to envelope me for few moments. Frequently it is a spark of color or a moment of wonder, that if given some attention, brings with it a feeling of hopefulness and glee. I am learning to pause and sit with these pockets of delights, enchanted with what surfaces.

saturday morning

“It's hard for anybody to put their finger on the moment when life changes from being something that is nearly all in front of you to something that happened while your attention was elsewhere.”

-Pam Houston

On this beautiful Saturday morning the dog is lazy, and the bees are busy.
The open doors and windows smell like fall.
I read somewhere that we are in for a colder than normal winter.
But before that cold and rain arrive, there is the fall to look forward to.
She is my favorite, and I will pay close attention.

the bay

“There’s a sunrise and a sunset every single day, and they’re absolutely free. Don’t miss so many of them.”
- Jo Walton

I am more likely to hit sunrise rather than sunset in mid-summer as I often head to bed before it is truly dark. But as summer wanes, I am up for a drive after dinner. I am never disappointed.

this was august

“Life, now, was unfolding before me, constantly and visibly, like the flowers of summer that drop fanlike petals on eternal soil.”
- Roman Payne

August arrives with a bit of familiarity. The garden overflows and I freeze beans and zucchini for winter, all the while thinking of mom. There are beautiful sunrises and the blue of the hydrangeas looks like the sky. I celebrate my 68th birthday full of gratitude and love.

Then, the following day my husband tests positive for Covid and we are quarantined. We follow the rules, spending every day outside and wear masks inside. We start walking every day for something to do. He eats his dinner alone in our guest room. Life is weird.

Percy’s toys sit all alone on the shelf, and I miss him something fierce. We FaceTime and I drop library books off at his house and he waves out the window.

And then some 16 days later, after a rebound case that was kinda scary, we feel confidante enough to venture out again.

I never got it.

August wraps up with a trip to the beach, were Percy fills his pockets with broken shells and his bucket full of rocks, both which he insists on taking home. Once home he creates a beach of his own in his water table, and I can’t help but think of his dad at this age.

August had its moments of frustrations for sure. But there were so many blessings. My wrist is healing well and we have a wonderful trip planned for mid September to Northern Idaho. Baker and Penny play every night, going back and forth, through the open gate, to while we enjoy the company of our neighbors.

Life now, is full of quiet wonder, what if’s, and love.