A Tasty Summer Treat

Contrary to what you may think because of my lack of posting in the last few months, life has not stopped dead in its tracks as my blogging has. This is the balancing act that I can't juggle well, in fact, that I struggle with: how to continue full force through each sunrise to sunset, fully attentive to every moment and then attempt to stop, retrace, and pick a particularly poignant part of my day to reflect upon. Lately there have been many and stopping to write feels like a chore. I don't want to diminish the effect of the memory, try to recreate the laughter, colors, views and turn it into work. But then what I forget is the beauty of the words. They exist forever. I can always go back and experience vividly a moment of sheer delight by simply reading my own thoughts on paper. I need to write to create those treasures I can pull out of my diary or computer when the rains of a Northwest winter return and I forget how we danced in the dust of summer. Or when it's dark in December I can reminisce through written reflection on the brightness of early morning sun while drinking coffee on my deck--how everything felt like it would fade before August's end because of the sun's rays sucking the moisture out of green grass, golden wood, and bleaching colors out of the plastic bubble wand laid to rest in the yard.

Honestly, I don't expect myself to record it all I would miss too much. I mentally take stock of an instant and cross my fingers I won't forget. There have been many wonderful moments in the last months. A trip to the horse races in Seattle with my Mom Phoebe's graduation, recital, swim meets. A week on Terrapin, Hunter's visit to University of Utah, Sailor's birthday extravaganza, and first round of swimming lessons. String Summit, our yearly camping/music festival. Picking plenty from the garden, and dinners with friends. I have a slide show running through my head of snapshots that are some of my favorite and these have not necessarily made it to film. Most recent is a fleeting minute yesterday that made me close my eyes, try to imprint what I saw through my eyes as best I could on my brain, and then spit it out with laugh from deep my heart.

Sailor had our two neighbor girls, ages 5 and 3, over an

d they were playing in an area of the yard not visible to me while I chatted with a friend. It was 90 something degrees and early evening and we were all sweaty and tired, my hair was a messy bouquet perched high on my head to keep it from curling tighter from dampness around my neck. When I turned the corner of the house I saw what to

me is the essence of being four. Sailor was stark naked from the waist up. Her delicious, creamy white skin on her belly shockingly bright in the fading light. Covering her bottom half was the largest tutu imaginable for her size bursting out from just below her waist while streams of pale pink, purple, yellow and blue tulle cascaded down to her ankles to reveal her pudgy toes peeking out from underneath the giant shade. When I called her name she turned, ruffling the tutu in the warm breeze and exposing her gorgeous self she squeaked with delight, "We're dressing up!" and there all three of them were, princesses grinning from ear to ear, lost in an imaginary fairy land leaving the rest of us behind. Now that's what I call a summer treat.