Swimming in Munn Lake year round has been wonderful in so many ways. The sum of all the swims—the short winter dips, the long summer swims, the perfunctory, the leisurely, the social, the quiet—is greater than any single swim. Though this swim was particularly magnificent thanks to the yellow mono fin (the mermaid tail) that turns your two kicking feet into one powerful swoosh.

Normally, when I swim I am talking, looking around, floating on my back, feeling myself get colder as I get further from shore. I am also thinking about how much longer until I can get out of the lake, wrap up in my dry robe, and pour out some hot tea. My time in the water is less than an hour. When I get out of the water, the swim in done. I might take a few photos from shore, write down some notes about the water and air temperature, jot down who I swam with and what was memorable about that particular swim. But this swim was different.

I could relive part of it over and over and over thanks to a video my husband made with his new drone. when I see drone photos of other swimmers swimming—usually in jade- or turquoise-colored water (or unwittingly alongside large marine mammals)—I want to plunge right in. Based on no information whatsoever, I know that the temperature and buoyancy of the water in these photos is perfect, that the swimmer is moving effortlessly and blissfully through the water, that I could swim forever in that water.

However….this is the power of photography, especially with some remove. Drone imagery takes you above the coldness of the water, the effort of the swim,, the lack of buoyancy, the soundtrack of exhalation and gasping inhalation. Run the video in slow motion and swimmer and water are equally fluid. This is not the reality but after rewatching the video of me and my friend swimming, my memory of that swim is becoming more like the drone footage. Which is like being able to experience a lovely dream over and over every time I swim.