Down to the Lake

The lake on the other side of the woods in my back yard. It's on my bucket list-- jumping in that is. It's only thirteen acres big, spring fed, with no power boats allowed. It's deep at the dock--I thought I heard a neighbor say sixteen feet; so my feet, if I tuck,will not touch the muck. But there's no raft to swim to, so I've been worried about where do I head for once I surface?

A swimming pool gal all my life--no mucky bottoms, no unseen plants and water creatures brushing against your legs or nipping at your ankles and a civilized water temperature of 86 degrees, this would be quite a courageous act for this play-it-safe gal. But it's something I think I have to do. I've lived here nearly twelve years and I haven't taken advantage of my good fortune. That's what we Jews call a shanda, a shameful thing. With the High Holy Days around the corner, jumping in the lake would be a great way to kick off the New Year--all I need is the courage--and a noodle--and a boogey board (what ever that is)--maybe a life vest...

(Double click on the picture. My lake is small,but not that small).