down to the river

Although I have always had a severe case of wanderlust, I will never grow tired of New Hampshire summers.  Ever since I was a little girl with stringy white-blond hair, my state has teased us with a long shower-filled Spring, and we wonder, "will the seasons forget to change this year?"  When summer finally comes, & the sun breaks through the clouds, New Hampshire is perfect.  The rivers are wide from all the rain, the bullfrogs croak steadily through the night, and as the fireflies lift from the grass at dusk, my yard turns into Titania's fairy kingdom.

Yesterday my friends and I went down to a nearby river to touch our toes to the water for the first time this year.  The water was cold and the current was rough, but we managed to wade waist-high before drying ourselves on the nearby rocks.  After our dip we drove into my sweet little town and ate dinner at the Tavern as the sun set.  The sky turned Van Gogh blue and I laughed at myself for thinking that New Hampshire was going to forget to give us a beautiful summer.  I've been here for almost 22 years and it hasn't forgotten yet.