More summer photos! Despite our hunkered-down, socially-distanced mode of operation, there is a small handful of summer routines we’ve managed to uphold (with adaptations) this year. Backyard pot-lucking and lawn-gaming is a summer favorite, and we had the crew over on the Third of July to celebrate Nance’s birthday with tritip and cupcakes and ladder ball. These two have missed each other dearly these last few months – it felt so good to see them be silly together again.
Because it was Fourth Eve and all the larger fireworks shows had been cancelled, we busted out our own small arsenal of party poppers and sparklers and smoke bombs.
Dinky fireworks are perfect proof of how easily impressed children can be.
Given the exuberance over the previous night’s sparklers, I made a follow-up trip to the fireworks stand on the Fourth for another haul of explosives and invited the Rusts to come back on over. First though, a game of Spike Ball and the requisite photos of Juliette. She was looking so grown up in her cuffed denim jacket that I put her hair in braids in an attempt to make her look six again. It hardly worked.
Let the festivities begin!
The fountains were a hit, as was Old Glory, which shot brightly colored sparks 50 feet up in the air.
And then someone started blaring Bon Jovi on their phone for reasons I can’t quite remember and a flash dance mob broke out in the middle of the street. This is how white middle-aged folks bring the party.
Happy Fourth!
We agreed to forego a trip to the San Juans or Whidbey this summer, but we did manage to squeeze in the smallest of island getaways with a Sunday trip to Vashon. The ferry terminal is 10 minutes from our house and the crossing is another 20, so the stakes were pretty low, but it succeeded in scratching my itch to get out of town. We spread out our blanket on a sandy stretch of beach, read books and ate grapes and watched the tide come in.
Photo cred a la Jules.
Plus, the ice cream shop was open for business. Score.
Though Juliette’s single home-grown strawberry was VERY tasty, we still felt it was worth making the trek out to Remlinger for an afternoon of picking. The sun was shining, the raspberries were plump, and I was exceedingly thankful that this tradition with my girl lived to see another year (we’ve been doing this since she was one!).
Get in there, Jules!
Dang, summer tradition tastes so good.
