The birds are sleeping in this morning. It’s twenty past five and outside is silent, save for the gurgling of the creek.

I open the bin that holds my off season clothes and there lies my summer wardrobe. Hello, old friends. I’ve miss you. Can’t wait to wear you again.

I didn’t think there was time. The afternoon was already closing in and passing by, the weekend waning fast.

I’m quite amazed that I can sit here at the picnic table on the terrace and write to you. In a sundress, no less.

A length of cotton rope, tight between two posts. White cotton sheets, draped and dancing in the breeze. Glorious summer sun.