I’m under doctor’s orders to swim. I swam recreationally for a few years before Covid, but haven’t been back to a public pool since. I don’t like driving 45 minutes to the indoor pool, especially in winter; I don’t like getting to the community pool early enough for swim lanes in summer; I don’t like the mandatory shower before entering the pool; I don’t like what the chlorine does to my hair and my skin. But I love to feel my body glide through water. The rec center pool in Delta has the Lazy River, a rib-high sinuous flow of warm water. That’s technically what I’ve been ordered to do.

So I bit the bullet and ordered a new swim suit when my Dog World sister mentioned them on deep markdown at Lands End. And the other night I ordered new swim goggles, wax ear plug discs, and a swim cap, all of which succumbed to age even as my swimming tapered off.

This afternoon as I sat under the pleasing influence of nitrous oxide in the dental chair, the dentist was chatting with the tech as she ground down my old cracked tooth. “You know Pat–gonia?” she asked. The tech murmured her answer as I pondered the question. Not that I could reply, but I thought, “I just ordered from them the other day,” because while I was at REI spending my free dividend money on swim gear, I also shopped for some sale items, including Merrell water shoes and a Patagonia jacket. I buy Patagonia whenever I can, because of their integrity.

Even though I thought heard “Pattie Gonia,” my first thought went to the clothing company, but in the next second she clarified to her friend “…the drag queen? I saw her in Denver.” I tipped both my thumbs up, then made the heart sign, and they laughed, so she talked about the amazing Pride show that Pattie Gonia headlined in Denver last month. I’d seen clips and pictures on Instagram.

I started following Pattie Gonia a few months ago when she showed up as one of National Geographic’s nine Travelers of the Year 2024. She was also named one of Outside magazine’s Outsiders of the Year in 2022, and a Time Magazine Next Gen Leader in 2023. The reason Wyn Wiley chose this name for his drag queen alter ego is self-explanatory if you know the brand. Learning that my dentist is a fan of Pattie made me all over tingle – though that might have been the nitrous.

My emotions have been very close to the surface this weekend. Tears spring at the least glimpse of beauty or tenderness. This is a welcome counterpoint to the simmering rage that erupts when I encounter another headline or photo, or comment from someone I know, that reflects the hypocrisy of so-called Christians celebrating the BBB that will starve children of food and education, kill thousands by making healthcare costly and/or inaccessible, pillage public lands, expedite the climate catastrophe, kidnap and imprison innocent people, and so on. I don’t claim to know the Bible like they do, those hypocritical politicians, neighbors, at least one cousin, but I do know what it says about the poor. Among a hundred other scripture quotes:

“Therefore I command you, you shall open wide your hand to your brother, to the needy and to the poor, in your land.”

Deuteronomy 15:11

So I tuned them all out this weekend, and turned my attention to the beauty, wonder, and delights of the garden. The fennel was bolting so I pulled the last four bulbs that were still solid, and left the few that were morphing to go to seed.

I couldn’t use it all at once, so I sliced the bulbs a little more thickly than I would have to use fresh, plopped them into ice trays, and froze them. That left four fennels worth of fronds to use or compost. I made a fennel fronds pesto, and froze some of that as well.

Into the food processor I put four cups of coarsely chopped fronds, the zest and juice of one lemon, four garlic cloves, olive oil, a little butter, a couple tablespoons of water — which a recipe called for but I didn’t like what it did to the consistency so I threw in an equal amount of cream cheese to add a little binding. Once that was all pretty smooth I added half a cup of pecans and pulsed a few times. I froze most of it, but kept some out.

Then I boiled some pasta, grated some parmesan, and enjoyed my lunch. One pesto recipe I looked at called for a splash of Dijon mustard, which I forgot to put in, so I added half a teaspoon when I tossed the pasta. Yum!

The next day I made sourdough pizza crust and baked two skillet pizzas. On the small one, fennel frond pesto, parmesan, Kalamata olives, and red onion; on the large one, from the freezer, roasted tomatoes with basil and garlic, grated Havarti, red onion, and chopped pancetta.

Yum! It was too hot to eat outside so I enjoyed my a few slices inside, with a delightful book that a friend passed along to me. Thanks, Chris! Later, when it cooled down a bit, I cooled off with my feet in the pond. This time, I went down and got up very carefully, properly, safely.

The babies are getting so big! Their nibbling tickles now. I thought maybe I saw a few tiny legs starting to emerge but Dr. Amphibian suggested maybe not yet. He said it could be six months before they complete metamorphosis, and that they’ll be fine overwinter in the pond whatever stage they’re in. Whew! It all depends on variable conditions, including water temperature. They change at their own pace.

This evening’s sunset walk delivered the perfect cherry on top of my holiday weekend. It’s been years since I’ve seen a bull snake. This little baby startled me — we startled each other on the path, she was perfectly camouflaged, and she slid gracefully away to an ancient juniper. May you also find moments of beauty and joy in your day.