“And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.”
― F. Scott Fitzgerald

Working from a kitchen table or library desk doesn’t spark feelings of summer. I blame fluorescent lighting and too early mornings.

But today J. and I spent the morning in the mountains cheering on my sister-in-law’s extended family in a Memorial Day 5k and 1 mile race event to honor lost family members. Her family (including all five kids) were running in memory of their grandparents and cousin who passed away in a car accident last year. The turnout was great, although we were kept on the sidelines – J. has a busted foot, and I wimped out on training properly. I’m afraid I hate running, though I need to get over it because it will be by far the cheapest health option in the near future.

J. and I then just spent some time driving around the mountains through the farming towns with old settlers houses and rolling alpine fields filled with livestock before ending up in a local resort town, wandering down the main street and grabbing food – a hefty chili cheeseburger for him and a tasty Veggie Benedict for me.

We spent almost the whole day out in the sun (sunglasses and sunscreen included, of course) in shorts and tee shirts. It was glorious, it was summery, and I neglected to take a single picture. If ever I’m asked to prove a number of things (from my daily activities to my marital state) based on photographic evidence alone, I may not be able to do so.