sepia memories

Only one more week or so of summer.

I live on a rather tiny sort-of an island.

We are just one square mile here on the north shore of Boston.

We are connected to the mainland by a causeway that is one and a half miles long

but that may as well be a thousand miles long come winter.

In summer people go to long Beach at the end of the causeway

but come Labor day they are all gone and our rather tiny sort-of an island

is ours once again.

Our house is perched at the beginning of the island 

just in the center of a three pronged fork.

We are surrounded by two beaches, the old coast guard station,

Memorial Park, a gravel parking lot, and the softball field.

In summer we watch both the men's and women's softball games 

from the windows in the kitchen while we eat our dinner.

At Christmas tide we watch the PTO's Christmas tree sale 

in the gravel parking lot and we buy our tree from there

and walk it up the street toward home.

We we hear the Memorial day parade end in Memorial park

and listen as the speakers say the prayers for our loved ones

and Veterans who have left us.

I love this time of year.  

The darkness settles earlier and it is cool enough for cooking again

and gathering around the kitchen table. 

Church starts up in earnest again.

And I find a rhythm in the days and weeks of Autumn. 

I give my house a thorough cleaning

and set the summer things away for next year.

In their place are family photos and dried hydrangeas

which I picked from the bush in the front yard.

Monday: leftovers 

Tuesday: Swedish meatballs, egg noodles, green beans

Wednesday: Puy lentils with bacon, roast cauliflower

Thursday: Roast chicken, herbs and potatoes

Friday: crockpot turkey legs

Saturday: beef stew

Sunday: spaghetti and sausage sauce, salad