I am a summer girl at heart—despite the bugs and the poison ivy and the deadly caterpillars—and July in Maine is summer.
As often happens, it came on suddenly.
After a chilly June and a late end to the school year, suddenly it was Fourth of July weekend and it was hot and humid.
For some unfathomable reason, the members of my family do not like going to the beach.
They like it once they get there, but the getting there is always an ordeal.
I managed to coax E and Z to the shore Sunday, and they discovered/remembered that, yeah, they actually enjoy the beach.
They've gotten brave enough this year to swim out to where the water is deeper than they are tall, which means I have to swim with them or watch them closely again.
The water was co-o-o-old, which is just what the doctor ordered on this sticky, sunny day, and they stayed in the water until their lips turned blue around their chattering teeth.
I almost thought we'd be too cold for ice cream on the way home, but once we hit town, and the heat island effect, we were ready for a cold dessert.
Monday, C, E, Z and I partook of July's other favorite activity—strawberry picking (M is working at the strawberry farm this summer and had no desire to go there on his day off).
C was determined to get the 40+ pound discount.
So we picked. And we picked. And we picked.
Coming home with 57 pounds of berries!!!
C has been busy hulling and freezing them, and, when it became clear we'd never eat them before they went bad, I relented from my anti-domestic stance and made a double-batch of jam.
And that, dear Reader, is why I am a summer girl.