You might as well stop reading unless you are Stefé or Pamcakes or Harmy.
My blog is as much a diary/photo album and this one is probably only interesting to me, but I don’t want to forget the beautiful last days of this summer.
There is part of me that fears memory loss, which is ironic given that I am known among my friends for having an incredible memory.
Yet still, should I lose my memory like in the movies (which is beyond rare in real life) I’ll need this record of my life.
This summer fell into three distinct segments: before road trip, during road trip, after road trip.
Like a World War or the birth of Christ (if you believe in that kind of thing) our road trip was an enormous, defining event.
We returned from our trip tired and weakened, but it didn’t keep us from enjoying the last couple of weeks.
Three days after returning we met up with Jefé, Stefé and Harmy at the Denver Botanic Gardens to take in the Chihuly show once again at night.
As expected, the show was vastly improved, I daresay the installation was designed with dramatic evening lighting in mind. And yes, it was better without having to chase my kids around under the blazing sun and high-noon heat.
And then there was the wonderful company.
We’d been talking about getting together with Pamcakes and her HUSBAND! at their home all summer. We make it just under the wire.
I took a bunch of photos that night, which I then forgot about because of my iPhone debacle.
Only now, a few weeks later, am I able to take a good look at them. I’m moved by the beauty of Boulder and the vast richness of my children’s lives.
They aren’t in the pictures because we made ourselves a cocktail and took a walk around the neighborhood while they played in the backyard.
Don’t worry, the dogs were watching them.
In fact, many of these photos are from Pamcake’s mother’s back yard; she lives just down the street and we stopped by to do one arm pull-ups on her tree.
Pamcakes admitted that it took 40 years for her to appreciate the view just outside her bedroom window.
I guess I’ll be content if my kids eventually appreciate the lives they have when they are 40, if not earlier.
The boys spent the last week of summer in a half-day art camp just down the street, just the low-key kind of activity we all benefitted from. The afternoons were spent hanging out with friends, going to the pool and getting ice cream.
We had one last hurrah – a true summer’s swan song – until next time.