I’m sure there’s been plenty of people in my life who wanted to tell me to go jump in a lake. Well, for the last two days, I’ve had to do just that. The temperatures have been well into the nineties, hot, hazy and humid. It’s exactly the type of weather I left Florida to avoid.
Around ten last night, I took Pico down for a swim. As hot as I was, I can’t imagine how hot a dog could be in weather like this. After throwing a stick a few times, I let Pico chew on his temporary toy and I just sat in the water. The lake was calm, with no breeze to speak of. Even though it was hazy, some stars were out and lights from Vermont were reflecting on the almost-glass surface of the lake. The mosquitoes were bad, so I sat in water up my neck and was glad that the horseflies had at least taken the night off.
Pico and I had chased a flock of geese off the beach a couple of weeks ago, but apparently they didn’t go far. They swam by, twenty yards out. There must have been twenty of them, parents and little ones. In the calm water, they looked majestic. The slow ripples coming off their bellies and the quiet mumblings were soothing, while the reflections of silhouettes graced the water, and I thought to myself: “I really wish those stupid geese would stop pooping on the beach.”