late July heat —

the first time she asked me

not to stop

twelve trash bags later

we return to our own home

and close our eyes

almost August —

the heat of the day lingers

long after dark

nearly full moon —

we wait to hear news

of the baby’s birth

(for G.D.)

late July —

harder to tell, now,

which are the goslings

just one young deer

standing in the field at dusk —

then six, seven... eight!

all night

while we sleep unaware —

the collapse of stars

Lessons from Camp, 2015

We're back from another fabulous two weeks in one of our favorite spots in the world. Here are some of our takeaways from this year's trip:

Surfers have more fun.

BYOL. (Bring your own library.)

Friendship bracelets will never go out of style.

Appreciate the little things.

Go ahead, splurge a little.

If you hear the dunes calling, listen.

Home is where the tents are!

Thanks to the neighbors who helped keep our little house safe in our absence, 

and to all the friends and loved ones who sent their happy wishes and good weather vibes our way.

A special thanks to the families whose generosity made this version of our annual adventure possible.

For more photos, see the album on Flickr.

If you want to jump into the wayback machine

you can do so by checking out the posts 

from 2014, 2013, 2012, 2011, 2010, 2009, 2008, 2007, and 2006.)

how slowly

the snake relinquishes

its spot in the road

I hold the swing still

so that he can climb on —

“all by myself”

we stutter step

playing at staying

out of synch

home three days

still tipping beach sand

out of our shoes

summer camp drop off —

we try to steal enough hugs

to last four weeks

giving credit

to the mourning doves

who started my day

chasing the sunset

down one too many side streets

I lose my way

still thinking about

cornflowers in morning sun

as I fall asleep

Pilgrim Lake, the sky

each fiercely holding the light —

yet night will still come

after surfing

expecting the distant hills

to roll closer

this month’s tide chart —

our boy’s voice going

deeper by the day

invisible

as soon as it stops hopping —

this tiny toad

remembering

the night stars we marveled at

are still there today

remembering

the night stars we marveled at

are still there today

choosing this once

to duck under the waves

coming up in sun

tiny sand crab

reminding us again

of the worlds we can hold

true love —

the one time you ride that wave

all the way to shore

end of day shower

seaweed clinging to the most

unexpected spots

long beach

studded with the blackened pits

of last night’s fires

underneath the sounds

of our to-ing and fro-ing —

ocean waves

so pleased

to have sound a puddle —

summer sparrow

Freedom By the Ocean

Yes, it's that time of year again... we hear the ocean (and, in my case, a giant stack of library books) calling our names, and we are outta here! 

We would love it if you sent us snailmail at camp! (Last year we got a bunch of mail and it was SO GREAT.) If you're reading this between July 4th and July 12th or so, this is your big chance to make our day at camp.

Send a little note to:
Riendeau-Krause campers, site 35-C
c/o North of Highland Campground
52 Head of the Meadow Road
P.O. Box 297
North Truro, MA 02652-0297

If you'd prefer, you can call the camp and ask them to leave us a note on the camp message board, which is also a big thrill. That number (good from July 6th through the 17th or so) is 508/ 487-1191, and office hours are pretty much all day with the exception of meal breaks from noon-1pm and again from 6-7pm.

Even if you don't have a chance to send a message our way, we know we can count on you to send warm and sunny thoughts... right? And a special thanks to the excellent neighbors who are keeping watch on our little house until we get back.

summer ritual —

we forget the special spots

we were so sure of

cloud-filled sky  —

we bring back home the gifts

that we once gave her

one glide upward

and I start to believe —

cobra pose

(For S. S.)