How is the summer vanishing so fast, scorching garden and all? I blink and suddenly we’re at the end of July, my sunhat tossed aside, and here I am—still baring all at 65. I once thought I was ancient doing this malarkey at 49, gingerly unclasping my bra for the camera, convinced my best bits were already heading south. Now, I marvel at wrinkles multiplying in places even the mirror can’t find, and the mysterious, quiet surrender of parts no one mentioned in biology. Who knew HD photography would be quite so, well, revealing? Yet I wouldn’t trade this wild caper for any lost summer — there’s sheer delight in filming the journey, wobbles and all. Here’s to laughing at gravity and outpacing the calendar! And if it moves you at all (you know what I mean)... then go ahead, be my guest, enjoy!
Haiku: Age in Bloom
Soft petals wrinkle,
summer’s flash bare and daring—
camera catches joy.
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