We spent yesterday afternoon wandering among salt flats, through mosquito woods, and then, late-day, kicking our bare feet in the surf of a broad sand beach, stopping at a clam shack for dinner, and coming home at dusk to pull out the bean plants and water the garden and watch Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton bait each other in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? That's a movie I do not need to see again. The rest of the day was good, though.

Today I think we're going to take another seaside outing, this time driving north.

High summer in Maine.

Today is our older son's 25th birthday. I wish he were here, but he's halfway across the country riding his bike or working on his video project or dogsbodying for some TV film crew or feeding his cat or catching a train with his beloved. I wish him all happiness. I love him so much.