I swam after dinner in a corridor of sunlight.

The lake was black, but not forboding, and the loons had disappeared – two paddled beyond the point and the other flew to join them, its solid bones making it impossible to get airborne until the thwack of feathers on water stopped and suddenly it was possible, so I didn't have to worry about them diving under me (yes, that is my lake swimming fear!)

The top layer of the water was bright with sun, my arms gold-green. One-two-three-breath, with a view of the trees on the far side of the lake. I swam for five, six, seven cottages, counting the docks and the tethered boats.

When I turned around, the sun was what traffic reporters warn highway commuters about this time of year – the sun low and directly in my eyes, a blinding light.

I swam without knowing where I was swimming, and kept on until the dock appeared, with the docktails and the happy hour (the happiest hour, really).


It took me forever to warm up afterwards and I wore all the clothes I packed...but it was the most glorious lake swim of the summer.