There is only one white day on my June calendar. One open day. I’d decided it was time to start Zumba. What is white for anyway? Space to engage. And I want to try this class. However, in the middle of the night my left knee burns me awake. In the dark I rummage for Traumeel, massage it, and have a chat with my knee. I sleep past the Zumba hour.
But in those awake moments of turning and settling pillows, I hear the water spirits call. Much louder than when I thank them in the shower every morning. Yes, I will start Zumba some other day but I can walk around the lake and the dogs and I will celebrate the longest day of the year.
However, the voice was louder than the smooth ripples of the lake and the squawk of ducks. Much louder. I put the dog blanket in the back seat, check my supply of plastic clean up bags and slosh on sunscreen.
The dogs are twirling around like they heard the water spirits too. I have one leash with two attachments. I pick up Zee, the four pounder, who simply cannot manage a jump up to the back seat. Beamer, at almost seven pounds has no problem bounding up. I settle them in, looping the leash to the seat belt.
The ride is longer to Whatcom Falls than to the lake and they ride patiently. (Note: this does not always occur. Frequently there is vomiting. Another story.)
We park in the shade and walk past the stone wall, stopping every few seconds while their noses inspect endless information that I am happy not to acknowledge. A group of tourists from L.A. takes their picture. We are all happy.
The Falls roar approval at my arrival. Some primordial contentment fills me. I have walked this path in other lives, been in the presence of such force before. It never ceases to fill me.
Young people in swimming trunks and cut offs scurry along the paths to the swimming hole. Of course there is no swimming here but it is the ultimate delight to jump from the cliffs into the cool waters downstream from the falls. Signs are posted everywhere. These waters are unattended. There is joy tempered by caution as a jumper hesitates and the jumps or dives. I send them all blessings for their bravery and celebration on this fine day.
An off leash monster tears in our direction barking like a wild hound. There is no time to scoop my dogs up. I take a step forward, push my hand out in a stop gesture and in my sternest voice command “Leave it.” Miracle. The dog stops. The owners appear. We hurry on and they go in another direction. Later we happen on them again. The dog is not a monster but a beautiful American bull dog/Boxer mix. I manage this information over the furious barking of said dog and the outraged yips from my two aggressors who will just not have this dog in their territory.
I check my cell. I forgot to activate the Cardio Trainer. Next time.
As we exit the park, three Papillons come around the corner. Five wild beasts protesting intruders. “They all think they’re Rotweilers” one of the women say. Ah, someone familiar with the breed.