A Summer of Something New:

Over the years, summertime, much like everything in life, has taken on themes. Years of blazing heat grouped together by my innocence, or lack of innocence, or by desires or even by years of productivity. I remember as a child summertime meant spending the days with my grandparents, it meant blackened feet immune to the dark asphalt we would trampse across, 75 cents to the local Washington swimming pool for afternoons that would turn into evenings in the water. In college it meant falling in love, traveling to Europe and learning how to navigate the trains or road tripping to California with friends. As I've grown into a grounded woman summertime grew into a time to experience the little things for the first time. To try my hand at new activities, to discover new passions.

Eating rattle snake

Shooting ranges

Bikram yoga

Preparing for a 1/2 marathon

Playing tennis

Fly fishing

They are such small pleasures.

This summer has felt like a tiny scrapbook, a hodge podge of 'first times' woven together by the verb "to try." And now, it is almost over. I read the season in the sky, now when I leave for work in the morning it is less firey orange and more cotton candy pink. Fall and winter will arrive, sedentary, heavy and warm. It was best to end the summer as it began, with trying something new, with fly fishing in the mountains with my dad.