Z is for zinnias, five dollars a bunch today at the Farmer's Market. For zesty, too, and the way summer is zipping right on by. It's already August, month of dog days and fireflies, cricket din and hummingbird flutter. This is gazpacho weather, especially when a friend drops off a sack of tomatoes, cucumbers and peppers (red and green) from her garden. There was a blue moon the other night, a rare second full moon in the same month, and the Perseid meteor showers are expected around the 11th or so. There's still time to to toast summer with a peach Bellini and homemade pesto pasta. Still time to catch a baseball game and hit up the Chick-fil-a drive-thru for a lemon swirl. Time actually seems to stand still in early August, just like the sultry air. That's a gift of summer.
When is the last time you found a personal note peeking out of your mailbox? From someone who gathered paper, pen or laptop (and thoughts) and focused solely on dear, wonderful you? Well, there will always be correspondence to open here. Love letters from life, written just for you.