come august.

summer's brimmed with planes and trains and cars, long stretches with each side of our family, visits from friends, visits to friends. all the things that give a summer a heartbeat.

we're home now, feet firmly planted on the island of manhattan, sleep patterns decidedly all over the place, eyes fixed upon summer's coda lived simple and slow and sweet. here's to more farmers market morning and sunday suppers made from their bounty. more novels, more ice cream cones, more buttery corn on the cob. more wildflowers stuffed in jars. more walks to the bookstore, to the coffeeshop, to the swings in central park. more walks to see the sunflowers blooming up the block, tiny dimpled hands reaching out in tend'rest introduction. more bubble baths in the afternoon. more cotton dresses. more bloomers and brimmed bonnets on a six month old boy. more woody allen films and songs by simon & garfunkel. more talking 'til it's dark out. here's to fewer places to be, and more being exactly here, where we are, while summer's still in town.