We are a week away from the ill-fated beaver festival that will never be, and I can’t tell you how strange it feels to not being making panicked lists and checking everything twice. The past four months have been eerily underwater, with nothing quite as you expect but everything hauntingly familiar. It’s will be a spirited away summer too. But the festival will wait for us.
One of the things I will miss most is the magical friday we spent alone with Amy in the park as she chalks out the design and begins to cast her magic spell. Jon and I usually bring her coffee and lunch and set up a tent to give her a shady picnic between labors.
Ahh…
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