Swimming Holes

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Remember the second part of the bargain? One composting toilet for X dollars in plants and a visit to the swimming hole? It’s hard to improve on sweet conversation and a vanful of native plants, but I was about to try.

Following the path at the back of Mike’s land, I meandered through grassy meadows and into a softly lit forest. Katydids and birds sang high above as I rounded a bend to see the jewel I’d come for … a swimming hole. I’d never turn down a river dip from May onward if it’s not raining. And a fully private swimming hole that one can wear whatever they want (or nothing)? I’m so in.

I love a good swimming hole. I know that winter is truly behind me when I wade in to my knees and stand a moment, adjusting to the chill. Mike’s little river is not near as nippy as the McKenzie, my more frequent companion. In minutes I’d stripped and stepped out to my waist.

Water flowed all around me. Soft, cool water invited my cares to flow away, invited me to let go and enjoy the moment. Irresistible. Water is sacred, and water is love.

What is your favorite swimming hole? Are swimming holes a hallmark for summer in your book, too?