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Today while swimming laps in the pool, I began thinking about postcards. Because I didn’t write to her at all the first summer I went to overnight camp, the following year my mother tucked seven plain manila postcards that she addressed and stamped into my foot locker. My friend Martha used to send me a postcard while on her yearly June vacation. I loved getting her missives from Greece or Spain. But, alas, like Martha’s free time (she’s a mom now), postcards have gone the way of most hand-written communications, and become a rare and precious thing.
While I’m not filling up anyone’s mailbox myself this summer, below are a few snapshots — postcards from home — that chronicle my summer so far.
The ferns on our morning walks have been exceptionally beautiful this year.
These “ghost flowers” or “Indian pipes” were a rare find and it was difficult to capture their eerie presence with shaky hands.
A local fungus provided an air of ruffled formality.
We’ve had some summer visitors.
Moxie and Kola dropped in for the 4th….
We’ve been enjoying lots of healthy goodies from our local organic farm.
And Karina makes every walk an adventure — especially given her new talent for finding muddy waters to roll in. On this day, however, she was her clean, dainty self.
More postcards and at least one big adventure to come.
Shifting Gears 