Full Circle

A brief story of summer, told in Things That Are Round:

It started with this fire ring up in Acadia, where I camped through a nor’easter, fell in love with the Maine woods, and encountered a midnight sasquatch.

Then it wandered through farmer’s markets,

and sent me to concerts by the lily pads at Duke Gardens, sitting next to the guy who thinks he’s Nick Nolte and the wild bunches of little kids who tried to get us into trouble.

Summer brought with it walk-to-work morning coffee,

and evenings laughing with friends on the porch swing while fighting off the mosquitos.

Then I got to be Lara Croft for a day, and we drank cocktails in costumes out of mason jars,

and there were more tomatoes than anybody could count.

Summer this year was as wholesome as lemon water during a Tuesday lunch,

and as decadent as Audrey’s homemade moon pies on a Saturday night.

Summer sent me a baby watermelon to raise,

and we made a million little round popsicles for our Edenton Street Garden fundraiser. I survived my neighbor Tripp’s Cherry Bomb.  Made of ghost peppers.  It was bold.  I was on fire.

And then I drank this ice-cold coke meandering through a farm field in Virginia, breathing the cool mountain air and listening to music off in the distance.

And suddenly, this week, when I thought summer and I had nothing more to say to each other,

the sunflowers came.

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