the lake of shining waters

it was a good day for a lake & an ice cream cone. 

it's late july and the start of the school year is quickly approaching. hubs started back to work just today. so, yesterday, it seemed like a good idea to take off for the beach. in this case, the little beach that borders lake alma just down the road from our house. 

these 90 degree days have made for perfect conditions to be submerged in cool waters. my parents & sisters came too. right out of the car, the kids find a stray dog, name it cocoa & ask to take it home. there was a smell of charcoal. hot dogs & homemade rice krispy treats. wafts of sunscreen. ice cold cola. sandy toes & rosy cheeks.  sherbet colored nets catching minnows. lessons from grandpa on swimming. playground sliding. then a quick stop for ice cream on the road home. 

notice the haircut my son gave himself. my husband now calls him lloyd christmas.

daddy/daughter handstands

On either side the river lie

Long fields of barley and of rye,

That clothe the wold and meet the sky;

And thro' the field the road runs by

           To many-tower'd Camelot;

And up and down the people go,

Gazing where the lilies blow

Round an island there below,

           The island of Shalott.

Willows whiten, aspens quiver,

Little breezes dusk and shiver

Thro' the wave that runs for ever

By the island in the river

           Flowing down to Camelot.

Four gray walls, and four gray towers,

Overlook a space of flowers,

And the silent isle imbowers

           The Lady of Shalott.

...

There she weaves by night and day

A magic web with colours gay.

She has heard a whisper say,

A curse is on her if she stay

           To look down to Camelot.

She knows not what the curse may be,

And so she weaveth steadily,

And little other care hath she,

           The Lady of Shalott.

And moving thro' a mirror clear

That hangs before her all the year,

Shadows of the world appear.

There she sees the highway near

           Winding down to Camelot:

There the river eddy whirls,

And there the surly village-churls,

And the red cloaks of market girls,

           Pass onward from Shalott.

-The Lady of Shalott, 1842 via anne of green gables