Keeping on, during the winter, waiting for this longest day of the year.
And it is really worth it. Really is.
I hop onto my car, a big bag full of the usual stuff (sunglasses, a book, my Kindle, the daily newspaper, some pens, a notepad, sunscreen lotion, and a beach towel) and I head toward the seaside.
Summer: the only time when I feel glad to be born where I was born: Italy. Among many things that don’t work here, the weather (and the food) is one that hardly let you down. It starts in April, the first warm days when you can drive to the seaside. Walking in peace on a wide silent open beach, no beach umbrellas, no noise; just the first warm breeze and some clouds in the first deep light blue sky.
And then June is here. The 21st of June. The longest day. Still sitting outdoors in the garden while sipping a good glass of Italian wine. Watching my beloved wonderful family. Memories, to be kept.
Inspired by the Daily post today’s one-word prompt ~ summer
Travel hints to my homeland: Friuli – Italy