collected.

waiting at a crosswalk yesterday afternoon, i peered into the grocery bag and took stock: beefsteak tomatoes and salted mozzarella, grapefruit and watermelon and sweet corn. summer is unfolding.

save for a single rogue, autumn-cool day, these hours are hazy-hot. we are sleeping earlier and longer, and moving slower as we emerge from sheets tangled with pacifiers and paperbacks. the bed is the coolest spot in the apartment, and all three of us know it.

summer has meant sipping chilly draft lattes and pausing for saxophonists on sunny walks and diffusing oils (floral, pine) that remind me of the mountains of utah. chris traveled west for a patch of days and we welcomed him home with a walk for honeycomb ice cream at the new shop in the neighborhood. we've picnicked with friends in central park and walked north for a playdate with cousin ella and hunted matcha soft serve on days it was too hot for anything else. white cotton is a uniform and riverside park is brimming with hydrangeas and our boy's eyes are exquisite: blue ringing green ringing gold. there was a fourth of july (swimming at the empire hotel, gelato in lincoln center) and a fifth (sandal tan lines, sleepy eyes, sunscreen still-in-hair), baby's first illness (he was most brave) and a new trick learned (toes to lips, five month calisthenics). my skin is sticky with milk and july, and i think how i always want a baby around.