the trees call

This is my spot along the riverbank. Here there is less sand, more grass, beautiful light, trees abundant. I consider it mine because there are nothing but good memories here. Windy walks, quiet evenings, rock chucking contests, fireworks, cotton candy stained faces, nachos with too much cheese, and a panting pink dog tongue. We lay on the hill and Jackson points out the “comets” which are actually airplanes. Jonathan finds sticks. I take the pictures I want to take, not the ones I think will look good. Smiles come on their own in this place.