The end of summer, well actually there are 3 weeks left & I will take them. Still, I feel the first smart stinging sorrow that comes over me at summer’s end. August is my favorite month, with 31 days & no holidays. Good bye, August.
Last Sunday our new friends- Peter & Nancy joined us for brunch. The husband, who is the cook in this family, provided a very summer-ish meal of 2 varieties of bruschetta: heirloom tomatoes, fresh basil, & guacamole, & one with grilled asparagus & goat cheese both drizzled with a balsamic reduction. My contribution was a white wine & apricot puree punch. A summer Sunday in the Boys’ Fort with new friends & Portland came through with 64 degrees & rain!
I love that the blue polish on the Husband's toes matches the blue of the hydrangea. Larry the canine concurs.
Nancy remarked that Post Apocalyptic Bohemia suggested & had the sense of a beach bungalow with its rocks & beach glass, boardwalks & grasses, stacks of books, dogs, & barefoot men. We live close enough to the Pacific Ocean that we get cool, salty marine air in the mornings. We are just blocks away from the mighty Columbia River & the north flowing Willamette River, which provides us with visits from gulls, eagles & the occasional beachcomber.
Do you feel like you are at the beach?
Labor Day Weekend may spell the end of summer, but September has always felt like the start of the year, perhaps because I lived a big chunk of my life in academia. The melancholy that comes with summer’s sleep is balanced with the thrill of new pencils, Pee Chee folders, & jockstraps.