Cabin Weekend: The Ultimate Slow Moment of Summer

You know, we take this little weekend trip to the cabin every summer now and though most of what we do is routine — arrive by 3, beer in hand by 3:30, puzzle, dinner on the grill, breakfast on the front porch, reading on the side porch, walk down to the river, nap, puzzle, listen to the Rockies game, repeat — the small details change from year to year, so that I can remember and love each trip individually.

This year, we had the most perfect sunshiny warm weather — though those mornings on the porch were still crisp in the most refreshing way — we made tacos (because: Taco Summer!), ate peach galette, took a drive where sun-drenched valley spilled into sun-drenched valley spilled into sun-drenched valley, read on a bench that overlooked the stream, saw the most hummingbirds ever, drank kombucha, learned to play Yahtzee, put together an 80’s-themed puzzle, ate yogurt bowls by Joey’s request (!!!) and as always, came home feeling relaxed and recharged.



Slow Moments of Summer, Part II

From the hammock, I stare up at the evening sky through the branches of the tree above.

In the soft light of our room, I light my newest candle and climb into bed to read.

I read the title story from a collection of short stories.  First to myself, then later on to Joey.  I think about it all week and decide I love it wholeheartedly.

We eat ice cream while children hula hoop and the “quirky crooner-sounds of yesteryear” play in the background.

After yoga, I walk to my car, up a quiet street with beautiful houses and legitimately hear someone playing the saxophone.

Right before bed, I play Joey a Gregory Alan Isakov song and then he plays me one by Amos Lee.