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End of August. Hot, hazy days are alternating with clear, dry ones that hint of fall. We meander through these last weeks before Labor Day, savoring beaches and backyards and, in my case, feeling my inner engine start to hum with anticipation of my favorite season.

We went back up to Maine for a few days and visited “our” beach, planning our trips around low tide, when the beach stretches waaaaaaay out. The kids teased the waves and yelled “Pirates!!” when a small two-masted sailboat rounded the breakwater. The Boy and my dad found a purplish-red crab that was immediately name Pinchie. (And who was immediately returned to the water to hide from seagulls.) When we got too cold, we retreated to the little coves in the rocks to build drip castles and divert the little streams of water coming down from higher, hidden tide pools. Back at the house we had lunch outside and had corn and bright red tomatoes for dinner. We slept in. (Well, as much as a three-year-old will let us.) I read a lot, and took a good walk, and Sunday night could barely force myself to climb into the car and drive away.

I will be back.

My weekend books were The English Girl by Daniel Silva and The City of Bones by Cassandra Clare. Good beach reads, although I felt old when I realized I’m about five books and five years out of date with the Clare book. Oh well. The kids brought Robomop and Corduroy and the Sneaky Snacky Squirrel game, which sends the Boy into gales of laughter whenever he spins a sneaky squirrel and gets to steal one of my acorns.