Signifying nothing

Upper Provo River Valley, Uinta Mountains, Utah This has been a peaceful, mind-clearing vacation so far.  I pre-determined (aside from a rather rigorous hiking trip to the Uintas) that I was going to completely relax as much as possible and, more importantly, do not much of anything that really isn't just about basic living or taking care of emergencies--and even those I've managed to calm my way through.  I came upon the idea of just relaxing and letting my life flow along a river while hiking along a river in the previously-mentioned Uintas.  It was a pretty freeing thought to just let myself wander down that river a bit, sloshing through shallow and deep mountain water, not worrying, but following the river and a friend who has the good sense to know when to break the easy trail and head into the dark forest for no reason. That was week one of the vacation, and it was freeing and opening and, without being incredibly maudlin:  life sustaining. This week ...

Given that it is summer, I thought I would provide you with just snack writing, gentle reader. Snacks are the best summer cuisine. Rather than "snacks" I think we should use the Spanish word tapas . When I think of Spain I think of eternal summer, even though I know it is not aways summer there and they do, indeed have cold weather, pine trees, and snow. One can dream of the land of eternal summer, however. So the point of tapas is not to have a point. You just eat small portions until you are full, drink some wine, and then fall asleep beneath and Andalusian sky. You wake up to bread and cheese and then start the whole thing over again. That's what summer is and that is what writing in the summer is. Too bad it has to end.