We recently returned from a week's holidays at a cottage. Had a lovely time- lots of do nothing stuff and a completely different change of pace. I would get up around 8:00 as opposed to 6:00, read and read and read, eat a fair bit, and the evenings consisted of a good family game and a movie. I also did a lot of swimming, something you can only do for a few short months of the year in Canada.
I've decided I love to swim in the northern lakes, cossetted by trees and rocks rather than the great lakes, an endless expanse of water. I love the silky feel of the water up north. It seems to gently wrap around you and is not that interested in bashing you with mountainous waves and white caps.
It usually takes me a while to get into the water. At the Sand Banks in the County you just keep on walking and slowly, the water creeps up a little higher and I waste more time just trying to acclimatize. But up north there is no choice. There's no walking in - you just jump off the dock and away you go. It's a quick, surprising, refreshing, awakening moment and then I'm there, ready to dog paddle away!
I flip over on my back and take the stance of Jesus on the cross - arms out to the side, feet together. And I just float away, looking up at the clouds watching them scuttle past. There is that somewhat uncomfortable popping feeling in my ears as the water seeps through and then - nothing. I'm weightless with only the sound of my breathing, the water holding me up and blue sky and clouds above. I check out the tree tops waving away and though I can't hear it I know the wind is rustling the leaves.
Then, after a few good laps to work off that extra snack, I climb out onto the warm rocks and wrap up in a towel.
These are the times that make up for cold, cold winters, ice and snow and endless night.