The Secret Swimming Hole

Shhhhhh! Don't Tell Anyone!



















I remember the special attraction of "secret hideouts" from childhood. For me, those special places were an olive tree where I could get onto the garage roof and be out of sight of the parents while still having a view over the rest of the neighborhood; a little trail that twisted through high grass in an empty lot and came out at the remains of an old chimney of a long-abandoned house; a window we could open and squeeze through into an old basement apartment; old "jack rabbit" houses out on the desert that marked someone's homesteading Mojave acreage.

SeniorLand is in Sonoma County--surely one of the country's most beautiful spots. I was walking Byrdie and Talus along a path that runs on the banks of a small, running stream about 15 feet below. The trees hang over the creek, there are little waterfalls and the big boulders are green with moss. Most of the year the creek is dry but after a rainy winter like the one we just had, the water is flowing and making delightful water sounds.


















Byrdie loves to swim so I was especially excited to find a spot where I could slide down the leaves on the embankment to the water. At the base of one of the old oaks was a genuine swimming hole--deep enough for her to have to swim to get across it. The joy watching her chase the ball into the water and swim around in the pooled hole was so much like the best times of childhood! I can sit on the edge of the creek and delight in the sunbeams pouring down through the high trees, smell the bay leaves and listen to all the wonderful gurgling sounds the little creek makes. (Talus, being the whiney little poodle he is has to stay in the car when I visit my secret hideout.) And, of course, Byrdie provides the comic entertainment by trying to hold the ball under water, batting at it, losing it and then madly searching for it. She will bring me the ball and toss it up from the water practically into my lap.



















The "secret hideout" part comes in when I hear the occasional walker going by high above me. They can't see me because the creek is quite a ways down and not many of the Seniors are going to risk the trek down to the bottom of the creek bed. I feel like a little kid again--hiding out in the tall grass and tree roots, just being quiet until they have passed. I don't want anyone to disturb the magical spot I've found!