lontano lontano lontano

We had a very nice weekend, other than the part when my computer died, which was very, very sad, and I even took some pictures that I've been wanting to post here along with a nice, neat post about playgrounds in the summertime, the smell of this season when you're outside, running into friends when you go for an ice cream in town and eating a salad with delicious lettuce from your very own garden that you grew all by yourself like magic, but the computer thing has used up a lot of the already very little time I allot myself for extra-curricular activities.

Here is Jack using his favorite equipment at the playground. (Apparently, the most mundane activities seem absolutely delightful when it's your child doing them.)



And here he is again, calling out "LONTANO! LONTANO! LONTANO!" which only sounded poetic hours later when I remembered it and thought of him looking up at the patches of sky through the leaves. FAR! FAR! FAR! Then it seemed like it might be the refrain in a novella by Alessandro Baricco.



And here with the ice cream. You knew there'd be ice cream.



He had to make an important call after that.



And hide when we told him it was time to go home.



It still seems impossible to me that he thinks those columns are perfectly ordinary, that neoclassical architecture and cobblestone is just what you see around town, that he will grow up with that being the look of home to him.

Skinny G and I went out Saturday night, and we ended up sitting at an outdoor café in a wide square along a cobblestone street. The church to our right was illuminated above the entrance and you could just make out the shape of a stone statue on the far end of the plaza. I didn't have my camera with me, but I knew I'd remember the important parts, and I do. I remember it even better than it was.

I sometimes think parenting is a little like that too.