Walla Walla, WA

Each summer, when enough warmth has seeped into the bones, deep summer arrives. It’s not on a calendar, but I’m sure you know it. It encompasses everything from the dusty ground beneath your feet to the towering clouds overhead. It ushers in languor and a benevolent drowsiness. The sound of the bees and the crickets is more resonant, and conversations are subdued with longer intervals of silence. Harvest is approaching, and I long, as well, to preserve these golden hours as memories to open in the midst of winter.