Ah, August. A month whose name alludes to its impressive stature. It looms large, shimmering in the heat, revered as the last great beacon of summer. It's over now and September stretches ahead in the golden light, the first leaves smoldering red, the school bell ringing in the distance. Summer is so fleeting but I'll hold tight to my memories of Cape Cod, a place that with its salty air and sun-bleached shingles seems to encapsulate this season better than any other. A few days with dear friends in their beautiful home near the beach in Truro left us relaxed and rejuvenated, determined to go barefoot more often. We strolled, swam, cooked, lingered in the screened-in porch and slept soundly, dreaming of childhood.
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