Blog

FallSwimming

It doesn’t happen that often, but on those years when our pool season gets cut short for whatever reason, we do our best to keep the pool heated and running until the last warm days have departed. That worked well this year, when I’ve been able to make it into the warm water at least three times since the calendar clicked to fall. It’s a welcome bonus we absolutely needed. And a happy reminder that all is not lost when it comes to little joys and last-minute reprieves. 

Having already used R.E.M.’s exquisite ‘Nightswimming’ (my favorite song of theirs) in this post, I’m going with ‘New Orleans Instrumental No. 1’ for this swim post, taken from their best album ‘Automatic for the People’. It has an end-of-summer vibe to it, mellow and slightly somber, with a certain sweetness that tempers an inherent sadness. When fall arrives, those are the vibes that come out.

The water is different now. Warmer than the air, it’s not refreshing like it was in early August and summer was at its height, but rather embracing and comforting. It wraps around the body like a gossamer blanket, barely there, but noted immediately as soon as you slip out of it. At those moments the night air is harsh and bitter, cutting into your skin with the slightest breeze. You slip back in like you would into bed on a winter morning. 

A pair of citronella candles glows and flickers. There is still the possibility of mosquitos; a couple of them found their way inside recently, seeking warmth, seeking blood. On this night, they keep their distance, adding to the eerie quiet that hangs over everything. 

It’s a quiet not found during the summer, when all sorts of insects make their noise and voice their concerns, when the aforementioned mosquito brigade buzzes and pricks, and, later, the crickets chirp their quirky song. Tonight I listen to the quiet lapping of the water on my neck and shoulders, and the occasional rustling of the fountain grass when the air moves just the slightest.

There’s something reassuring about an autumn that enters in such silence. 

Back to Blog
Back to Blog