friday photo: football season is here

I've been reluctant to see summer go. I feel that way every year. It's one of the reasons I was drawn back to LA over and over again for years. But on the east coast, summer refuses to stay longer than a single season, and every year, as temperatures steadily drop a degree here and a few there, I wistfully cling to it - refusing to put away my sundresses and sandals, shivering long into mid-September nights. This year, I basked in summer's offerings - day hikes, a camping trip, time well-spent napping and reading at the beach, slowing down time with old friends and speeding it up with new projects, long days and slow evenings with the taste of the grill in my dinner. But every year, including this one, just as I consider packing up my bags to chase summer, small reminders of what Fall brings sneak into my routine and my line of sight. The return of football, the thought of picking apples and the memory of the smell of apple cake in the oven, and the imagined taste of hot cider, and the vision of Shenandoah National Park in fall - with a brisk breeze and leaves of a thousand colors falling down over my steps, and pulling out skinny jeans that have nearly gathered dust and knee-high boots that have done the same - these are all the things that warm me when the sun's rays stop, and I think this year, Fall is going to be as filled with love as its fading predecessor.

my bylines...

best places to run in tokyo

best day hikes from dc (starring zan & me in the picture!)

guide to the saijo sake festival in hiroshima (one of my best memories of my year in japan)

 

summer showers

 

I showered outside for the first time the other weekend.

Matt came with Zander and me to Rehoboth, Delaware for the weekend. We took him to our favorite beaches, down the boardwalk, stuffed our face with boardwalk fries (another first for me!), rode bicycles - all the while hoping desperately that Zander, our recklessly fearless leader wouldn't get us killed, and brought back pink noses and sun-highlighted hair to show for our efforts. Zan's mom welcomed us all in with open arms, except when we were covered with sand. Then she ushered us quickly to the showers - and since there were three of us and two showers inside, she suggested someone use the outside shower. 

I volunteered so quickly you'd think it was for a make your own sundae bar instead of bathing myself. I ran - really, with a bounce in my step, outside. I full on showered with soap and shampoo and conditioner and suds and bubbles and skipped wrapping my hair in a towel after I turned the water off so I could feel the drops dry on my skin.

It might be ordinary for anyone who owns a beach house, but it was bold and daring to me. I felt the warmth of the sun as it shined down on the parts of me I never show it, the ones reserved for inside the four walls I call home and house and hotel. Like a rebel and a hippie, a naturalist and a minimalist - all the fantasies of a different kind of wondrous life, wrapped up in a single outdoor shower. I lived a little more.