Well, summer's basically over. I have to pack, and I need to finish so that I can get some sun. The sun here tans you so much quicker then the sun out in New Hampshire. I suppose it's because the sunlight in New Hampshire is so much older. Don't ask me to explain it-- it just is. Even the first warm days of spring feel older because of the way the light plays. The light out here is so young and fresh and exuberant. It almost pays for the way it sears into your skin in 30 seconds, making you flush uncomfortably.

I guess it's because there are trees back there. Real, old, trees. I was raised with pepper trees and eucalyptus trees and palm trees and the old coral tree that hunched in the corner of my yard and bore the most exotic crimson flowers. And back east-- all the trees are old, and they have actual leaves for shade, that change colors and such. I still miss my pepper trees and the coral tree and the bottlebrush tree, mess though it made. And the Rose of Sharon-- I miss it most. Such a delicate little tree, even though it was nearly 50 years old-- sort of the opposite of Miss Havisham I guess.

Now I'm just babbling for no reason. I should be packing...