The summer is now sadly in its melting away stage, as evidenced by the dusk that falls shortly after eight pm.

This week feels heavy and slow. I attribute this in part to the weather, the mix of humid heat and heavy storms, in part to the menstrual hormons and in part to the fact that I am still figuring it all out.

In the morning, first my daughter’s bike broke, then the rain flooded the car, because I left the roof open, then the camp called saying E needed new shoes because her regular ones were hurting. And to add to the distractions and frustrations of the day, I lost the document i’d been working on due to the Word malfunction and learned that a colleague got fired.

Yet, with all the heaviness and unease, there were surprising moments of bliss: a lunchtime walk under a light summer sprinkle, a generous cup of a blue milky drink that the cafe called matcha mango. When I asked for it, big, iced, the barista confessed that they were out of matcha, but the blue powder was just as good, just a little more lavandy. I said why not and ended up with a beautiful blue cup of something that tasted neither mango, not matcha, something that reminded me of a milk cocktail, but sophisticated enough for an adult to drink. And as I was walking away with my blue milky drink, I saw Richard Wagamese’s Embers in a book exchange box that almost never contains anything interesting. Then I noticed the first time of Philip Pullman’ships Dark Materials

In the evening, my daughter gave me a goldfinch feather.

Life doesn’t have to be perfect in order to be beautiful. Really.