Summer Solstice

At 4:30 the birds start singing. At 5:00 it starts getting light.
Mornings are cool.  I drink hot coffee and a walk on quiet roads.
The grass is covered in dew and reminds me of summer mornings growing up, my fondest childhood memories.
Shades of green, to many to count, make up the mountains.
Long days have my garden bursting with bounty and I am pleased. I’m a novice experiencing beginners luck. I visit for peace and snip this and that: greens, herbs, flowers, and so on. It’s a simple pleasure I’ve wished for for a long time.
In evening, after supper, we go on a walk around town. The frenzy of tourists has calmed, and we have a little quiet. The sky is beautiful in the evening, often shades of pink. The train rings loud, but otherwise all is calm.
In between these moments of calm is a sort of craziness that everyone that lives here feels.
The days are shortening already. I try not to think about that. Instead we revel in these perfect days sailing with friends and potlucks and hikes and someday, when the weather warms, late night swims.
There really is nothing quite like Montana in the summertime.

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