Porch Swing

That's what I call a vacation.  A nice porch swing and a good book.  Minus the mosquitos.

Today the skies above my house will be filled with the roaring jet engines of the Blue Angels. Perhaps all that noise will scare away the mosquitos????

On my agenda for the three days I have off (last time this summer):  another batch of ratatouille (which I find I actually love), dinner of tomatoes and fresh mozzarella and sweet corn for dessert, another batch of crab apple juice for jelly (I want to see if I can make four cups that taste good before wasting sugar and jars on the jelly) and I have some foraged apples, from an abandoned tree near where I work, to make into a pie.

G says it's time to cut the grass again.

This is my second attempt at a post for today so I may stop writing while I have the opportunity to press 'publish" and have something happen.

When I was 14 and 15 years old, I spent both summers (when not at the free public swimming pool or babysitting my baby sister) on the glider on the front porch.  I read Gone With The Wind each summer from cover to cover while making the glider move with my bare foot.  I ate warm, just picked tomatoes from the garden.  I had no idea that I was actually having the best summers of my life right then.  But I remember them.