Day, I love you

This is the kind of day that wants to be acknowledged. Hell, it was practically fishing for compliments from the get-go. Awright, awright.

Ahem.

Hey, Day! Right arm, buddy. You rocked out there. But seriously, thanks for the details -

the handfuls of silty sludge perfect for sand-lair building at cranberry flats (I said it was the beachfront mansion of the brokenhearted vampire - Kody said it was our fabulous Mexican fantasy home. Then I photographed him gleefully smashing it);

an 8-year-old voice piping up from the backseat: 'dude, this is really the perfect beach music!' (CSNY - Suite: Judy Blue Eyes, of course);

the freezing river rushing past my shocked flesh and into the city where pelicans jab it expertly for fish.

It was all beautiful. And I'm not just saying that because it was maybe the last day of unabashed summer frolicking before the long, serious winter sets in and new realities reveal all their fangs and scaley bits.

Chestnut brown canary
ruby throated sparrow
sing a song
don't be long
thrill me to the marrow