Summer was glorious here, weeks and weeks of living outdoors, hiking, gardening, creating cut paper and painting and lettering until the wee golden hours faded into starry nights.
The sound track was laughter and the trickle of melting ice, the gentle breeze in trees and the crunch of bike tires on gravel.
It was a long, sunny summer, now drawn to a quiet, happy close.
What will the next season bring?
