dragonflies. wildflowers. butterflies. bees. a bunch of neighbors from whom we can borrow an egg or two or three. cote de rhone and gigondas. blazing sunsets overlooking snaking rivers and salt marshes. homemade mini pizzas hot from a wood fired oven. friendships young and old, near and far, dear and informal. seeing a new friend smile when i call his name as he pedals down the road. clouds lit up and laced with silver and gold. starlit skies provoking awe and wonder. dipping toes and fingers into shallow waters. nostalgia. jumping off of bridges into brackish inlets. dancing with reckless abandon. dancing at all. david byrne. steely dan. kate bush. blonde readhead. the low spark of high heeled boys. cocktail hour. bicycle rides. the thumping sound and feeling of running on a wooded trail. visiting our friends' vacation rental. teenagers. floating docks. water dogs. loons parting a rippled pond. wind mixing up leaves and limbs. tiny pine cones clinging to waterlogged boughs. watching our pooch, smellie, swim. michael's fluffy homemade pasta noodles. getting a tiny little buzz. beauty. stories. hopes. memories of yesterday. dreams of tomorrow. possibility.
 |
| From our friend's deck in Georgetown, Maine. |
No comments:
Post a Comment