Stolen Summer

We are stealing moments of summer. 

Falling asleep with the windows open to the smell of a bonfire and waking up in smoke scented sheets.

Cracking open lobster claws in Rockport.

Flying a kite on Stratton Mountain after hours of yoga and sunshine. 

Napping on a striped blanket laid out in the shade.

Eating slushy, citrus-y Italian ice on the deck of the ICA.

Grilling corn in the backyard, grabbing the cobs off the grill, and dipping them in queso fresco.

Convincing the dock guys to let me take out the last paddleboard of the day, catching a view, and spinning around in the middle of the Charles.

Getting home and going straight to the freezer for a homemade blueberry popsicle. 

These moments are stolen. But they add up to a summer.