August 22, 2010
Communing With Nature
When you live in Florida, sooner or later someone is going to take you to a lake or river and expect you to swim in it. Having grown up in Los Angeles, I have found it difficult to transition from chlorinated swimming pools to bodies of water filled with algae, fish, and small woodland mammals.
"I have no desire to swim with otters," I told my husband the other day. He was in shock that I had left my swimsuit at home. On purpose.
"This place is awesome!" screamed my son as he plopped a glob of floating green stuff on his head.
I looked the other way.
"Can you throw me my goggles?" asked my daughter. "I want to check out what's under here." She gestured to the knee-deep brown water in which she was standing.
"A fish just bit my leg!" yelled my other son in excitement.
I told my family that I would wait for them in the car.
When they finally emerged from the watery depths, everyone smelled delicious. Like lake.
"Next time I'll go in with you," I promised.
"Really?" asked my husband, hopefully.