I LOVE this description: "One day we revel in the warmth that stains our palms pink as we cup a handful of the last of summer’s raspberries. The next, we long for woodsmoke and hot coffee and cinnamon and wool socks. Back and forth we go, like the tide trying to decide to come in or go out."
Thank you - somehow that image of a red stained hand from summer berries feels like quintessential summer to me. It's the image I think of in January when the snow is stinging my face on my way to the train. Glad to hear it resonates with you, too :)
I LOVE this description: "One day we revel in the warmth that stains our palms pink as we cup a handful of the last of summer’s raspberries. The next, we long for woodsmoke and hot coffee and cinnamon and wool socks. Back and forth we go, like the tide trying to decide to come in or go out."
Thank you - somehow that image of a red stained hand from summer berries feels like quintessential summer to me. It's the image I think of in January when the snow is stinging my face on my way to the train. Glad to hear it resonates with you, too :)