Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Frozen in Action

My pool?? If only. 

        I have always dreamed of having a swimming pool. My childhood summers always included water in some form, pretty much a necessity in an un-airconditioned Virginia and Oklahoma. Mama would pack us up and off we’d go to whatever pool was available. She would lounge, reading murder mysteries and smoking, and I would spend most of my time swimming underwater from one end of the pool to the other. I must have had the lungs of a manatee.
          Now, years later, in spite of living on over an acre and a half of land, my yard is still a pool-free zone. Most of our property is wooded and drops down, making gardening sometimes an Olympic event. The rest is either full of shade or occupied by our septic system, neither of which combine well with a pool.
          The next best thing: a hot tub. This may sound contradictory; after all, look at the name. However, you’d be surprised how refreshing it is to lower yourself into 80 degree water after a tough and toasty day of yanking weeds. Yes, we don’t just need to trudge out through sleet to enjoy it.
          Our hot tub is a modest affair, fitting only two people comfortably. Since we’ve never gotten into suburban bacchanalia, hosting drunken parties of scantily clad neighbors – and that’s so fortunate on so many levels – a quiet pre-dinner dip with just the two of us and a glass of wine is just fine.
          However, we’ve hit a rough patch. Our soaking days will have to be postponed until we get beyond our current hurdle. You see, we’ve recently had an unfortunate combination of artic temperatures and mechanical issues. Added to that, we became worn down by shoveling our way through a foot of snow every other day. Since our interest in also digging our way out to the hot tub disappeared as quickly as our shrubbery, it has been weeks since we’ve checked on it.

          Yesterday I had a sudden vision of how refreshing it would be to crack open the old tub again and dug a path through the now melting and unbelievably leaden snow to the screened gazebo where it sits. 
           This is what I found. Note the shiny addition around the edges.



                                     It may be a while before I can satisfy my hedonistic tendencies.


  1. That just stinks! But what a pretty little gazebo. May spring come hurtling down your path, the sooner the better.

  2. We just gave ours away since we never used it. Now the new owner never uses it. I'll take that pool, though,

    1. Me too. Isn't that gorgeous? Small enough that I wouldn't feel compelled to do laps, but big enough for a raft to float on.

  3. I'm sorry to see this. Now you should have continued your hot tub visits and you may have prevented the frozen pipe.


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