The ponds have hit double figures. Ten degrees means no gloves and I am able to swim around the small area. We now wait for the ropes to go out once it hits 12.
I am running on my normal cross-country path again now that the earth has dried. It really is rock hard in places because of a lack of rain with concrete ruts where they used to be mud.
The diggers have moved in on the edge of the boating pond in preparation for the long haul of years of excavating and reshaping of the ponds and the area around them. It’s going to be brutal.
A young man drowned in our pond last week. He probably had a heart attack after jumping in to cold water one evening after the lifeguards had gone. A horrid thought and a reminder that while those places are so life-affirming and enervating, any depth of water is dangerous.