Sitting on the patio with a glass of wine on a warm summer evening.
Need I say more?
An August afternoon in my parents’ backyard is filled with laughter and conversation.
We sit below the climbing roses, on the deck my father built. The gardens surrounding us have been planted and tended by my mother. Chickadees swoop over our heads and chipmunks skitter by. These fences hold memories.
While Sunday supper warms in the oven, more memories are made.