It’s that time of the year where if you’re not carting home 3/4 of your usual shopping bag weight in melons, you’re definitely not me. I have brought home slices or wholes of every kind of melon, plums and bags of cucumbers (same family!) and I have been belching sighs of happiness ever since. It’s been a hustle to “make memories” before the cooler days set in, a phenomenon that occurs when you move out to a part of the Western Hemisphere where “seasons” are a real darn thing. I don’t like it but I let the weight of my decisions rest heavily on it nonetheless. I don’t know if it will strike me until we’re in the throes of the most disgusting season – FALL (I SAID IT) – but I love the days where I’m doing nothing but sitting outside hearing the birds shout as they rustle pine needles, the dogs bark at beeping sounds and I’m just sitting there pretending to read my book as the sun readies to force its beautiful energy on this goofy day.
Fall? Birch please.
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