Since I last wrote to you, each passing day has been carved by family wanderings, red berries on tree petals, flushed skin, and fits of laughter. I am wakeful every August morning. As the sun is awoken by the birds cry, I dress myself into summer skin, and stretch my crooked feet in the garden.
Here, I paint my head with my new ruby hat. It’s the delight of my ever growing closet. Hats make bad hair days into happy days. xx