A July evening

The humidity tonight is something awful--the kind of clingy, stickiness that fogs your glasses just because you walked outside, and hangs on you like a sick child. Breathing is a chore and movement slows down as you try to swim through the soup. It has me dreaming of cooler climbs, of cold-from-the-tap water and evenings that last into the night. But until I am breathing tingly-crisp air again, I'll be grateful for the ice machine and the air conditioner.

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This Henry picture is a few days old. When I discovered the pockets in this outfit were real, rather than just decorative over-stitching, I envisioned a picture of my sweet boy with his hands in his pockets. He refused to cooperate with my plan, but at least agreed to smile for the camera and his mama.