The fan is blowing on this Sunday afternoon, the dogs are leisurely and warmly uncurling themselves from their beds ~ I hear the tap-tap, tap-tap as they come down the stairs. A newly-potted rosemary on the window ledge sits in morning sun and Mimi, in a square of gold on the floor, does her weekend yoga. Neighbor's voices call out faintly on the air, chorusing with the cicada orchestra. A skateboard rolls by. I sip iced Earl Gray sweetened with honey.
Tim and I are getting ready to go camping this week, ready-set-go is scheduled for early on wednesday morning. We're bringing the dutch oven, and 101 Things To Do With a Dutch Oven, and I've great plans. Cinnamon rolls, page 12, here we come!
We were going to drive to the canadian side of the Great Lakes, but I'm awaiting my renewed passport to come in the mail, which hasn't yet come (10 years of that old photo, over, thank fortune). Did I yet tell you about how when I went the other day to get my photo taken, the man in the back of the old dusty shop pulled out a huge vintage Polaroid camera and took my photo with instant film? Is this normal? I was so enchanted.
I know I don't look enchanted, but trust me, this photo will be a huge improvement on my last passport photo, which made concierges in hostels all over Europe start back in shock.
Is it just me, or are these golden later days of summer just making your soul all stretchy too?