You know, there are some things that are just quintessentially JULY.
Things like 6 Days of Songs by Florist and my local film festival and the end of strawberry season and mostly all of cherry season. Long, hot afternoons sitting with you having existential crises. My birthday. When I start experimenting with various flavors of lemonade (lavender, rosemary, and basil have become my favourites over the last couple of your visits). The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd and The Paris Review. Painting Roses by Dresses. Wildflowers growing on the side of the road that look like daisies but are the most striking periwinkle blue.
These things are sacred, in a way. I cannot listen/read/do them without you. Once I tried to listen to Dresses in June, and, gosh, it felt weird. Stuff has seasons, and experiencing it in another is like experiencing it out of context. Like seeing an old teacher in August or putting up a Christmas tree in May. But when you come around again, I break out the bee books and the music and the lemonade and it’s like a little reunion.
I’m glad we have these things, July.