It’s that time of year. People are on the water and in the water. Aaaaaaaah. Summer.

Peaches and I are out kayaking – celebrating the sunshine, the boat, the long-ish days.

We paddle by one by one group of young people, mostly young women, doing every kind of big splash or neat dive into the lake to swim out to a small, floating dock/raft, too small to comfortably fit all of them. But they dance gleefully as they jam together. It’s about 10 or so, maybe a birthday gathering.

Further along, a group of boys is tossing a ball (small football?) from the shore out over the water. It usually isn’t thrown far enough The receiver(s) on the distant raft seem to always have to jump off to catch it. Splash! Got it!

Another group at another location is not in the water, but near the water, gathered standing quite formally, very well dressed. A long line is angled toward the lake’s edge, and they face 2 or three people on the other side of the opening. There is some kind of ceremony happening. Too small for a wedding. Old and young are very quiet and serious.

And then, close to home, are my nearby friends: these two young ones that come up every summer at this time, and love to drift by my dock and say hi and pat Peaches.

How old are they now? Into their teens but no less goofy. Their older cousins are with them this year, and is that a girlfriend, too? – whoever, they all seem to prefer silliness. Who can balance edge of the floatie? Can 2 do it? Three? Who knocks off everyone and screams the loudest? Etc.

It’s late July on Squam. A moment in time to get to the raft! Catch the ball with a splash! Hold a ceremony. Or just be ridiculous.

Forget everything else.

It’s high summer.

DId you mention water?

Peaches loves to swim. But only after the fact. She’s “shy” about getting in.

Once back on the shore it’s hip-hip-hooray! I feel goo-ood!