Sunday, July 8, 2012


The following is an excerpt from a delightful Boston Globe 
editorial from a few years ago.

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It is high summer now, a season in its prime. The Fourth of July afterglow lingers, making these midmonth days in the middle month of summer as luscious as a perfect plum.
The plums are perfect, too, as are the peaches, nectarines, and berries. How far one has come from the barren winter months of nothing but bananas in the cereal bowl. It is fruit madness now, and the Cheerios are barely visible beneath the load.
July is a banquet for the eyes as well, with day lilies splashing gold and yellow along the roadsides, roses covering the trellises, and hydrangea and delphinium exploding in blues so deep they look painted.
A person wants to stay right here in sensory overload and can almost believe that time might be hanging suspended - a bit like a Ferris wheel car at the top of the arc, swinging ever so gently as the rider surveys what seems like the whole rich, green world.
There is, after all, hardly a hint of change in the sweet, languid magic of the days. The light still lingers on toward 9 p.m., and there are almost no advertisements screaming "Back to school!" The catalogues are not flashing pumpkins on their covers, and the stores are still selling bathing suits.
Juuuuuu-lyyyyyyy. The word begs to be stretched, savored, and made to last forever. And right now in this big, slow rocking chair of time, that can seem possible.
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So grab a good book, a cold drink, 
a shady hammock and enjoy these lovely summer days.

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