“Summertime, oh, summertime, pattern of life indelible, the fade-proof lake, the woods unshatterable, the pasture with the sweetfern and the juniper forever and ever . . . the cottages with their innocent and tranquil design, their tiny docks with the flagpole and the American flag floating against the white clouds in the blue sky, the little paths over the roots of the trees leading from camp to camp. This was the American family at play, escaping the city heat.”― E.B. White
Cool mornings melting into warm days.
Light earlier and later.
Spring preparing for summer’s turn.
Months to slow, partake and savor.
Pump the brakes.
A rhythm of grace and gratitude.
Color, fragrance, soul time.
Drop anchor and float.
“Our world continues on, faster and busier, and we are reminded that our souls were not created for the kind of speed to which we have grown accustomed. Thus, we are a people who are out of rhythm, a people with too much to do and not enough time to do it.”― Rich Villodas, The Deeply Formed Life