Sweet summer

Like many things, I feel like summer never really just ends, instead it fades away in bursts and waning flickers. The days get shorter and the nights longer, and before you know it it’s gone. It isn’t possible to capture that feeling, the smells, the tastes. And you can’t save all the adventures for a rainy day in June when you’re feeling woeful in bed with scarf and hat. But I like to document a few of the personal and special things that happened so that I’m reminded that the great wintery hurdle is just a precursor to another summer season around the corner.

I already miss biking through the quiet quaint Martinborough square with my sisters on the way to the pool.  Percolating coffee on the campstove and Dad’s amazing salad’s from the garden. I already miss the sweet smell of cut grass mixed with warm skin and sun block and drinking big cups of icy gin soda and lime under the edge of the deck at Rotoiti. I’ll miss the 11pm dinners and sleepy afternoons curled up in a book with a dog on each side. I miss the air tinged with hot earth and sulphur while running up the road to the mailbox and back. I miss ice creams melting the backseat of the car driving to the next destination; the most difficult decision deciding what music fits the moment. I miss the scorching concrete underfoot when you first get out of the car and have to run to the grassy beachfront in Gizzy to save burning. And the smell of towels and the sea.  The hot nights, windows down and under just a sheet, or dancing countless hours under the stars to loud music and seeing the new year sunrise spread gold over a plantation of tangelos.

A beautiful segue into a new year which can only be better than 2012- critical for growth and change – but happily put to sleep.