summer like that

 A few photos from last week at the lake and a few from this week back home; working on several projects currently, so no photos of new work yet. I finished my piece for Windows on Main and am installing it this week, plus I am painting signs for the Beacon Farmers Market. Painting actual signs for a purpose is always an interesting balance to doing paintings OF signs. In my head I wrote a long paragraph on the subject of signs in general, but it was not as compelling as I thought it was at first.
My family and I made s'mores no less than 3 times last week, and this frequency led to ingredient experimentation. A s'mores bar was assembled with a variety of chocolate, the fire kindled, the coals coaxed hot and the marshmallows impaled on sticks. I vote for either a dark chocolate square or half a peanut butter cup, smashed flat, placed between a toasty brown mallow and one graham cracker, left open-faced.

 We climbed down this dock into the lake, bobbing on foam noodles and dodging weeds, to drift on the gentle waves. Happiness, splashing in the water with various family members. Or playing wiffleball on the sloping lawn, or gathering for dinners out on the big porch. One afternoon some of us drove to Ithaca, where we ate at the beloved Moosewood restaurant, visited the Johnson art museum on Cornell's campus and walked around the plantations and lake. Memories of my one eventful year at Cornell ('96-'97) piled up in my mind. I've been back a couple times since, and it felt so much more peaceful than when I was a student.

 I imagined laying my beat-up wheelbarrow down like a baby in this gleaming wood-paneled bed of the orange-and-white '71 Chevy pickup for sale I spied on the road near the lake. Not that I would ever really use it for a work truck. Not that anyone's handing me the keys. But it was a beauty to behold, and though I can't own it I can paint a picture of it. Much less maintenance that way. I say this as I'm anxiously recalling my car's interior shuddering and currently blinking engine light. Unsurprising that I entertained the notion of cruising down the road in this dreamsicle of a truck.

There was also an excursion to a mini-golf course adjacent to cornfields and a pb&j picnic under the hot sun. "And don't you guys want to stop at this antiques store we're passing?" I hollered over the wind to my nephews in the backseat as we drove home. "No, no!" they cried, and cranked up the Beach Boys.

 Another gratifying view of the lake while making the steep descent down to it.

 All the heat has made this a great year for tomatoes. This juicy flavorful one came from a friend's garden, along with the fragrant basil, and all that was needed was a drizzle of olive oil and a couple pieces of toasted bread from the Ithaca farmers market. Not pictured are the sweet ears of corn and crisp cucumbers, the plump blueberries and tart cherry tomatoes that I could live on. Lest people think I subsist only on ice cream. I supplement this varied diet with cold beer or red wine, with riotous flowers to fill my vision.