My cup runneth over as summer makes its arrival
The tradition started 25 years ago. Faced with a relatively housebound summer on account of the very recent arrival of the third little Lorson, the decision was made to set up a swimming pool in our backyard. That first little “instant-up” job, which required no assembly beyond a flat expanse of lawn and an air compressor to fill the inflatable top ring, was the ultimate in instant gratification. Within an hour or two of turning on the garden hose, all were happily splashing away. The move proved exceedingly popular with Charlotte, then 8 years old; Ben, nearly 6; and a whole mess of next-door cousins and neighborhood kids.
I’ve set up some type of backyard pool each summer since. And I’ve learned a thing or two each time, beginning with the quick and catastrophic lesson about the ability of that inflatable ring at the top to withstand the boundless curiosity of a certain water-loving Border Collie as Juniper leaned her bony doggy elbows on the tube and instantly emptied all 3,000 gallons of water across the lawn.
My current setup is a 10-foot-diameter, 2-foot-deep number that’s proven to be just the right size for a pair of courageous grandparents and two ornery grandsons to splash about until the little ones’ lips are blue. In the minds of the boys, the pool should go up the minute the snow is off the ground, but my annual goal is to have everything up and running by Memorial Day.
That last full weekend of May is always a mad scramble to get everything summertime set for the season. The lawn, the garden, the various “honey do” projects that have piled up all spring while I’ve been off riding my bicycle every time the sun shines — all seem to come calling on one gloriously sleepless weekend. Surrender is not an option.
And so it was that in between sowing bean seeds, transplanting marigolds, replacing window screens and mowing the grass for second time in a week, I found myself — on the hottest day of the year so far — assembling the various posts and pillars that frame the family swimming hole. Frequent showers under the garden hose worked to both cool and jolt me back to consciousness. Just as the hose was finally redirected to begin filling my plastic oasis, Kristin called from the house to remind me we needed to hit the road for an appointment. I turned off the water and away we went.
My first priority when we returned home late that evening was to get that pool filled and ready to go by morning. I turned on the spigot and very conscientiously set a timer on my watch for two hours, an alarm on my phone for 10 minutes beyond that and a final backup on the oven clock in the kitchen another 20 minutes out.
Kristin observed my foolproof, triple-redundant, multilayered alarm system and offered her predictably cynical commentary.
“Good luck with all of that,” she laughed as she ascended the stairs to bed. “You’re going to sleep through all of them!”
Defiantly ignoring her lack of faith, I promptly slumped into my recliner to dream of blue waves, beach balls, and goggled and giggling grandsons.
I awoke at 2 a.m. to a cacophony of all three alarms accompanied by the bass beat of water spilling over the top of the pool. Summer had officially begun!
Kristin and John Lorson would love to hear from you. Write Drawing Laughter, P.O. Box 170, Fredericksburg, OH 44627, or email John atjlorson@alonovus.com.
