Summer Is For Swimming

There is no water in the desert. Not to play in anyway. Where I grew up summertime meant swimming. Growing up in the San Fernando Valley the beach was thirty minutes away and swimming pools were in abundance. Neither is true here.

Over coffee this morning I meditated on options. The local high school has a pool, but it’s the only water around so you end up walking or treading water rather than swimming in it. We used to travel down the hill to a Spa Hotel but I ‘Yelped’ it and the reviews were bad. One said that if you filled up a bus with people with tattoos, beer bellies, low-riding shorts and bad teeth and dropped them off in one location it would look like the Spa Hotel.

At coffee cup #2 (funny how that caffeine works) the light bulb went on. What if we drove down the hill, out of the desert to Yucaipa Regional Park. We packed up cherries, Gatorade, picked up sandwiches and ice and left town.

The swimming lagoon looked blue and clear. Grass and trees were on the immediate bank of the pool. We easily found a spot and spread out. Then into---no, not that easily—the water. It was cold but comfortable once in. A quick swim then the teenager and I headed for the waterslides while the wife enjoyed the pool.

Out of the pool and into the shade we plunked down into our chairs and grabbed our books. Cherries, Skittles, crackers and drinks then back into the water. Down the slides and swim the length of the pool while the daughter freaked about floaties and possible human body fluids.

Summertime is for swimming and sun baking out the stress; family and fruit, good books and laughter. Desert dryness causes us to celebrate the summer streams fully.