An email from a favorite aunt about sailing and sleeping under the September stars in San Francisco with another favorite aunt reminded me of this photograph by Hannah Whitaker:
Which in turn reminded me of summers long, long past in Colorado, when my sister and I were allowed to run out late and wild in the spirit of The Dinky Bird, inspired equally by this Maxfield Parrish print and the poem of the same name by Eugene Field, in a hand-me-down book.
To follow-up on my long ago post on wanderlust, I'm now wondering if all summers are going to pass as quickly as this last one did, with less and less time for sun and sand, sweat and salt, stars, sunrises and sunsets. And worse, I worry that my nostalgia and everyone else's nostalgia for such days is being replaced by a commercial version of the same feeling. Something more like this advertisement that I saw last spring in a movie theater and was pleased to laugh at, in chorus, in the theater when the Louis Vuitton logo appeared, and saw again this weekend before Vicky Christina Barcelona. I am relieved at least, by the laughter because I fear irony a bit, (although I am sure that irony was the cause of laughter in the theater, for better and not for worse). In particular, I think it is this love/hate uneasiness that makes Hannah Whitaker's photographs interesting.