pre-summer jubilation

Today it felt like the beginning of summer, even though it was the beginning of spring. The air was still and just heavy enough to want chlorine, swim suits, hot patios steaming. So now I'm thinking about David Hockney and his pools, which perfectly encapsulate the concept of an "L.A. pool." Growing up in California I spent a lot of time in or around pools. For that and many other reasons, I love them. Which is also one of the reasons why I loved our summer of pooling and pupusas before Trish and I left the mountains for DC. So here are two stunning Hockney pools and an excerpt from a larger essay I wrote about heartbreak, spelunking and, of course, pools.




"After years of desert summers, my friends and I knew the locks and unlocks of each apartment complex pool within a five-mile radius of Provo. We knew the parts of landscaped hills that would stay firm beneath our feet as we hopped fences, dodged neighborhood watches.We took advantage of it—two, sometimes three, pools in a single afternoon. We swam, sunned, and burst into impromptu water dances. “‘R.E.O?!” Ryan would yell, water pooling at his feet and trunks clinging to his lean legs. Ashley and Lia, two pairs of brown eyes brimming with sun, would splash their consent while the rest of us would whoop and holler as he slammed the tape into the deck and cannonballed back into the pool. Twelve pairs of arms linked to make pinwheels around the shallow end. Water whirled and glinted sun-smacked rainbows all over our skin. Right hand stars formed in the middle as we circled and crooned, “Can’t fight this feeling anymooooore!!!” with our voices cracking, our eyes crinkled and mouths jubilant inverted triangles.

That summer the sun was everywhere. It shone with a ferocity I could not define. My shoulders went brown, as did the part in my hair, even the spaces between my toes. I was new, golden, flying down the leafy streets on my three-speed cruiser. The sun bleached out all the grey of Utah Lake and winter. I danced on my side of town until the windows shook and fogged with the breaths of so many sweating bodies. I cuddled on couches and picked at heaps of grass in Sara’s front yard where we’d talk the moon straight out of the sky, reveling in our power, in the surprise of sprinklers misting over us. The dew on the grass. Everywhere glimmering with starlight and water."

And what would this post be without The Song Itself? Oh the magic...