The rise and fall of seasons is my life’s heartbeat. With each turn of the planet brings echoes of seasons of the past. The whisper of woodsmoke on a crisp fall morning or the blast of spring air rushing in the window: doesn’t really matter what it is, but these flashback moments evoke in me memories of long ago. Truthfully, they can fill me up with giddy anticipation or blanket me with melancholy.
But every year, every single year as the snow melts and the days lengthen, that sun shines strong and the heat grows, I grow too. I am more than me in the summertime. My roots cling deeper, my existence is more tangible. I feel more, I laugh more, I love more. Summer awakens something in me that slumbers the rest of the year.
The way I mark my summers now are by epic swims in the lake. I call these my prodigal swims.
These are what I recall when it’s dark at 4 pm. I cling to them, knowing that yes, summer will return. The memories of water dancing around my body, quenching my spirit, the balm to my very cold soul in mid-January. (and, yes, I know I go on about how much I love winter. And I DO! I love skiing and all that winter brings, but let’s be real here. Nothing beats sun-kissed shoulders and warm summer days.)
My favourite time to swim is in the evening. I sometimes run and reward myself with a naked cool down dip at my chosen spot along the edges of Queen’s Bay. The water here, I don’t know. It’s magical somehow. Slightly warmer than The Arm, of course, but there is a profound happiness I get by plunging myself in the water. Baptism? I could go as far as using that word.
These are long and relaxed swims, as I slowly move out far and deep into the Bay. There is distant hums of boats narrating these evenings. The flies hover over the surface, which by this time is usually like liquid glass. If I am lucky, rainbow trout and kokanee rise up to feast all around me. I swim, as the lake smell permeates my skin. It is a scent of warm air, of clean water, of fresh fish. Of joy.
I am usually alone. I consider the half hour swim a gift to myself. One where I don’t have anything to do but just be. I float on my back, filling up my lungs and I dangle on the surface, my eyes closed, ears submerged. I relax as much as I can. The water muffles the sound, and sometimes I lose myself in it, and when I do open my eyes, I am always slightly surprised that I haven’t really moved that much, because I feel transported in some meditative way. Transcendental enlightenment through H2O.
I always swim when I get the chance. I don’t want wintery regret, thinking I didn’t swim enough during the summertime. I am ravenous with these swims, they nourish my need. I am fulfilled. I am me.