Swimming with leaves

I haven’t done much. Not swum with dolphins in the Gulf of Mexico, nor watched whales in the North Atlantic. This autumn though I found myself swimming with the fallen leaves in a London park. It was not my plan, but a daily dip at London Fields lido put me in ordinary yet pleasing contact with the natural world.

You don’t expect to swim with leaves because the pool is such a sanitised place. Straight lines and bright blue water. Yet, open to the gnarly plane trees that loom around its perimeter, the pool welcomes their big, flappy brown leaves as they descend. Attendants are vigilant and try to sweep them away, but many leaves touch down in the middle and settle. The leaves take no notice that the pool is organised into four lanes of fifty meters – they float willy-nilly on the water’s surface, hanging around submerged and congregating at the bottom in soupy russet shapes. 

As I swim I look down through misted goggles and ponder this new aquatic life of leaves that used to be part of the sky. As I look ahead there is the odd leaf in a state of suspension, hanging in front of my reach as if pickled in preservative. If you’re lucky you can suddenly glimpse one, back-lit and bright orange from the sun’s raking rays. Sometimes there is even a tickling touch as I pull through the water. A shoulder, a thigh, an ankle at any moment can make surprise contact. When this happens, my thoughts are interrupted by a tiny spark, though if I try to catch one of these leathery forms they swirl away as if in play.

My swimming with leaves does not last long though. It is a seasonal pleasure and after a week or two the game is up. As I turn one day at the deep end, there beneath me is a figure at the bottom gathering leaves from around the filter grates. Into a big net bag they go, tidied away until next year. Though for now order is restored to the pool’s cool geometries, I’ll miss the unruly ways of leaves.

Note about park leaf management: autumn and winter in London Fields Park sees a battle between plane trees and park staff. Men with blowers shoosh leaves into long rows. Big wet mounds of leaves are blown into order by a special tractor-led machine that patrols around. Tidiness is restored by a huge vacuum cleaner that sucks up the piles. All the while during these months, the park vibrates and trembles and crows flap about bickering.