The Dip

We've gotten another dose of summer here, just as fall was about to begin. The thermometer's reading in the high 80s these days in the sun in the middle of the day. It's been swimming weather, and on this afternoon it was water we were seeking, to put our toes - or whatever - in to cool off a bit.

We set out for Bald Eagle Creek, set up our chairs, and put our water shoes on for a wade. My husband was the first to decide that the day called for more than that; that it was time for a DIP. He had his swim trunks on, and found the deepest spot, where he floated for a while.

It surely looked inviting and I was easily swayed. I didn't have a proper suit, but I didn't let it stop me. "Oh, you want to go in. You know it," he said. And that was all he had to say. He was right. I did.

So while he stood guard, I doffed it all and went right in. This was my husband's view from shore. He tells me he might be traumatized by what he witnessed, that he might need counseling over the whole thing. I suspect he'll be all right in a few days' time.

There were rumors also of a Woods Nymph spotted on shore. She might have been clad only in very large leaves. (REALLY, REALLY big leaves.) Or so I've heard. Then again, it might be just a story; another wild sunny afternoon's made-up dream.

The soundtrack: Loudon Wainwright, with Richard Thompson and Suzanne Vega, The Swimming Song.