Learning to use my new fuji camera.
Walking my dogs, always.
Making seasonal plans with my family (road trip for the girls).
Appreciating the natural bounty of the warmer calendar months, like: tomatoes, corn and cukes...flowers, frog songs, and long warm dusky evenings. Wearing fewer clothes...
Coffee outside in the morning,without a coat.
Giant sunflowers in the garden!
The windows open, so the curtains can catch a breeze... and flutter beautifully.
And with those windows open come the sounds of summer: scratchy insect songs, frog chimes, leaves rustling, faraway dogs barking, turkeys gobbling in the woods, cars going by late at night...
Sudden thunder storms. Dramatic dark skies and a hard, quickening wind.
Cold, creamy ice cream and fruity, neon colored snowballs.
Photo sessions at 8pm
The long, cooling shadows in the late afternoon. To be continued...
“The first week of August hangs at the very top of summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning. The weeks that come before are only a climb from balmy spring, and those that follow a drop to the chill of autumn, but the first week of August is motionless, and hot. It is curiously silent, too, with blank white dawns and glaring noons, and sunsets smeared with too much color.”
― Natalie Babbitt,
“Maycomb was a tired old town, even in 1932 when I first knew it. Somehow, it was hotter then. Men's stiff collars wilted by nine in the morning. Ladies bathed before noon after their three o'clock naps. And by nightfall were like soft teacakes with frosting from sweating and sweet talcum. The day was twenty-four hours long, but it seemed longer. There's no hurry, for there's nowhere to go and nothing to buy...and no money to buy it with.”
― Harper Lee,