Dare I say it? Last weekend was summer perfection. The pace was slow, the temperatures high, the lake cool and necessary. Little was accomplished in the garden, except for a bit of planting squeezed in before the sun hit the soil.
Each day we made our pilgrimage to the lake. On Friday as we floated in the rubber raft with our elderflower champagne cocktails, I cursed myself for not bringing my camera. Would a photo have captured the beauty and calm I felt, floating in the late afternoon sun? We'll never know.
Saturday I forgot my camera again. And I so wanted to capture the joy of an after supper swim, standing on a giant rock, submerged to my neck in spring-fed lake water that smells like Camp Huckins.
Sunday we swam in the heat of early afternoon, when the cool currents 3-4 feet below the surface are a welcome thrill. No camera.
The only picture I took all weekend was of dessert:
Gooseberry/Jostaberry/Juneberry tart with fromage blanc. Summer indeed.