Visiting cousins and nieces and sisters.
And bicycling and swimming and walking.
A summer of writing down everything you can remember about what you are thankful for.
And then writing down everything you know about making rugs so you can teach another how to do the same.
It is a summer of harvests from others’gardens. Little farm stands on the roadside and big greenhouses on back roads.
It is the summer of friendship. Long evening walks with our faces pointed toward the marsh as the sun goes down upon it.
It is a summer of bounty, family and friendship.
Swimming with and against the tide. Walking half a mile just to get wet.
A summer of letting your hair down,
of walking into the wind,
And getting messy.
A summer of waking up and thanking God for the pleasure of the day,
For the beauty of the wooden beams above my head and the shiny boards under my feet.
This morning I marvelled that the winter could actually come as I filled my table with fresh eggs and tomatoes.
I could hardly believe the truth in the seasons.
That there would be snow and ice when now summer is just so strong and precious.
Simple suppers eaten outside.
Full moons and meteor showers.
The smell of roses in the air and dragon flies all around.
Summer, every year we fall in love again.