First night back

Our gardens are in full midsummer bloom. The zucchini is trailing along the back bench. The tomatoes are bushy and heavy with green bulbs of fruit. The hot peppers are the tallest our neighbour, Cara, has ever seen and word on the street is they are good and spicy as well. We have two large bunches of one eyed Susan's, blooming hastas, ferns that look tropical. The Boston ivy is reaching around the sides of our neighbors garage so one of the first things I did when we got back was to cut it back. The grape vines are presiding over the rest of the gardens and providing privacy to our back porch.

Dana came over to play with Oliver and Tobin. Corey and Karmeet also stopped by to say hi. We couldn't hang out long because we were due up at Cara and Matthew's place for a playdate at 7. It took me a little longer to get ready so Jessica told me to meet them up there. While walking up the street I was in the mood to take pictures. Cumulous clouds had gathered like a quilt had been thrown over the sky. I snapped the photo and I felt like I was still on vacation, still on an adventure, every moment potentially a story, a picture, a rhyme.

Then it occurred to me. I'll keep writing and taking pictures at home as if I'm on a grand adventure. I'll post them on the app as a record of life, the good, the bad, the ugly...

I walked through the driveway gate at Cara's house. A few neighbors had gathered in the backyard. I took out my phone.

"Who wants to be in a picture?" I asked.

"Of all strange and unaccountable things this journalizing is the strangest. It will allow nothing to be predicated of it; its good is not good, nor its bad bad. If I make a huge effort to expose my innermost and richest wares to light, my counter seems cluttered with the meanest homemade stuffs; but after months or years I may discover the wealth of India, and whatever rarity is brought overland from Cathay, in that confused heap, and what perhaps seemed a festoon of dried apple or pumpkin will prove a string of Brazilian diamonds, or pearls from Coromandel." Thoreau Jan 29 1841Read more