Just a few of the things on my summer love list:
Popsicles on the front stoop. After dinner walks. Bare feet. Sprinklers. Fireflies. The smell of chlorine in my children’s hair when I kiss them goodnight. Beach reading. Wrinkly-pool-soaked-toes. Impromptu visits. Late mornings. Sandy PBJ sandwiches. Canoes. Reunions. Tomatoes off the vine. My husband wearing shorts. Flip flops. Eating outdoors. Strawberry margaritas.
(And a selection of pictures from my project 365 taken over the past month.)
I live and work in a small town. It’s the kind of place where you can’t make a quick trip to the store in your pajamas if you don’t want to run into one or six people you know. (If you know me, you’ll also know that being seen in my pajamas in town isn’t something I wrestle too much with myself about.) It’s the kind of place where shopkeepers ask after your family and know how you like your coffee. If you’re a photographer who specializes in kids (and have two in local schools) and spend an afternoon at the children’s bookstore (which is the sort of place that invites baby goats from a local farm in for story time) you’re likely to know a majority of the children by name.
I love all these things about this small town.