Summer, unblogged

Some of the best living this summer has gone unblogged.

Of course, some experiences should remain unblogged. Even in our age of constant social sharing, I believe in keeping parts of my life private and sacred. Some experiences also slip through the cracks because they are so ordinary. I could wax lyrical about the pints of raspberries I’ve eaten this summer, the pleasant lunch breaks with my book in the Public Garden, the sound of the harmonies when we sing hymns at church on Sunday mornings or with friends on Sunday nights. I do talk about these things, sometimes, but I don’t always blog about the things I do, the people I see, daily or weekly.

And sometimes I can’t fit an experience into the blogging box; I can’t come up with anything terribly original to say about an evening with friends or a dinner out or a weekend away. Sometimes I don’t have photos to go with a post. Sometimes, honestly, the effort feels like too much, and I want to simply enjoy it for what it was, without drawing a lesson from it.

I am headed to Texas this week, to see some old friends and cuddle that sweet nephew of mine and hang out with my parents and eat scads of Tex-Mex food. And I thought I’d share, briefly, some bits of this summer that haven’t yet made it to the blog.

We headed to Maine in late June, spending a cool, grey long weekend wandering around Bar Harbor:

The occasion was the wedding of two dear friends, Isaac and Katelyn, who are utterly in love and simply adorable:

(Small victory: I got to re-wear my bridesmaid dress from Bethany’s wedding.)

We watched them dance amid the twinkle lights:

And then I put my camera down and we all danced for another three hours. One of the best wedding receptions I’ve ever been to.

In early July, Allison came up for a weekend, from New York, and we showed her around the city:

Her fiance (now husband), Duncan, joined us the next day, and we all walked the Freedom Trail, with a stop at Paul Revere’s house:

The British are coming?

There are no photos of the excellent Italian dinner (or cannoli) we enjoyed, nor of the hours on end we spent talking and laughing together. This is why I don’t always blog about time with dear friends – it is deep and rich and full and unrepeatable, uncaptured on camera but so vital to my soul.

This summer, there have been a few trips to Cafe Luna for brunch:

But there have been far more simple patio dinners that look like this:

I’ve also managed to do nearly everything on my summer manifesto list (though the outdoor movies didn’t happen this year, the ice cream and fireworks and vacations certainly did). And I’ve savored every last one of my summer addictions, even when I didn’t talk about them here. The dailiness, blogged or unblogged, is precious and life-giving.

What have you left unblogged this summer?