Thankfully no one else here ever seems inclined to swim after dark, so the pool is generally mine.
There is magic in swimming at night. I highly recommend it. (But not at the beach – I think that’s when all the fishies eat. And the sharks.)
It’s cloudy tonight, so there aren’t any stars. But after swimming a lap or two, languidly pushing the water out of my path, I slowed to a stop in the middle. Reclined back in the water. And floated.
Floating is one of my favorite things in the world. (Easily pleased? Yes.)
The breeze was still breezing and it was so beautiful up in the tops of the oak trees, blowing the lengths of the thinnest branches wildly about, while barely moving the stockier limbs. What a view, looking straight up. I felt like the trees were waking up restless their restless souls right above me.
Back on the surface of the water where I hovered, one of my favorite phenomena (and one of my reasons for my fascination with floating) occurred. Do you know that feeling, where part of you is above water and part of you is below, and the line of the surface of the water around your body seems to be the most tangible thing in the world? Arms outstretched, palms upturned, let the surface of the water skim your fingertips. The feeling of the water line pulling away, and then fingertips re-emerging is so meditative. Try it.
(I went back to take a picture of the trees and got some odd looks from late-evening dog-walkers. Wandering around barefoot in my haphazardly selected post-swim clothes with a camera slung over my shoulder…I may have a reputation as an eccentric around here…being normal’s no fun though…)