All on a Summer’s Day

Summer in our corner of New England is beautiful. Sunny temperate days, festivals, book and rummage sales, gorgeous scenery.

Look a this is a special treat that I cannot eat, but it is so good. It’s Malasadas, a Portuguese treat. Fried dough tossed in sugar. We used to have them when we lived in Hawaii in the past life. Interesting isn’t it that the cultural threads I found in Hawaii, that of the ocean bound Yankee and seafaring Portuguese, define this city of New Bedford. I believe anything can happen, because it has.

It’s possible to have a day trip to see our daughter and come back with her, laughing and singing in the car. It’s possible to walk into the house and find a box of books from a dear friend in Virginia.

It is completely possible to be on the way to a book sale and find a Quaker rummage sale near an old ancestral stomping ground. Past fields and stone walls bordered with tiger lilies, past bales of new hay and little farms, on such a trip it is completely possible to find a treasure.

Twenty-five dollars and we have the perfect piece of furniture for our busy dining room

Then off to the book sale and oh the delight of books! The ghost of Marcos and his book miserly era is vanished in this country where books abound and book sales astonish with their bounty. I found everything I wanted and more.

What a lovely day. And as the evening fell, the long shadows fell across the Reed Estate across the street. The house was full of music, and the kids were singing, and dinner was stupendous. All of us around the table, and me, with a heart full of thanks.