It seems a recap or two has escaped me in the early days of August, mostly because I’ve been out of town and busy with, well, real life. But when the goldenrod starts blooming by the roadside, and the nights begin to cool down into the 60’s, it’s a reminder of the passage of time. Fall will be upon us next month, and in anticipation of that I’ll work a little harder to get back into the swing of things. Onto the past few weeks, and what you’ve missed if you were out enjoying the summer days.

Our summer vacation was in Maine – it started with some magnificent food in Portland, a moving marriage ceremony,  and even more food. Andy and I both fell under the spell of Portland, and vowed to return.  From there we went to Ogunquit, where we were greeted with flowers exploding around every corner. Of course, there was some amazing food there too, and we got a beautiful day at the beach before the moon turned everything upside down, and I walked the Marginal Way at midnight.  A parting glance at Stonewall Kitchen left us with the memory of beauty.

For the most part, I’m a law-abiding citizen, which is why I was shocked when I got thrown out of Starbucks.

It’s important to smell good, even – and especially – in bed.

Be careful what you wish for.

Not all cocktails are winners, because not all bourbons are created the same.

The poached egg. It works wonders.

There were Hunks galore, with the shirtless likes of Tom Daley, Ben Hunt, Nick Jonas, James Deen, Matthieu Charneau, a Tom Ford model, and a bunch of classic Speedo shots.

Wow, I must have graduated from high school when I was five.

Boston maintained its magic and mystery.

There is no better balm for the soul than good friends, old and new. I didn’t want it to end.

This birthday wish list already needs to be modified, as I couldn’t resist purchasing Tom Ford’s Rive d’Ambre during a tax-free Massachusetts weekend, and the two Hermes scents didn’t quite pass muster.

You’ve got style, that’s what all the girls say.

And thanks to you, yes you, this site just hit a milestone.

Its wings were torn, far less than perfect. I could tell from a distance, and hesitated even getting my camera. But it stayed on the butterfly bush, carefully pulling out its nectar, going about its business, and not minding a little human accompaniment. I hurriedly went inside to get the camera and came back out to grab a few shots. At first I wondered why I was bothering. The goal of most nature photographs is a glimpse of perfection and beauty. Why document the tattered and torn? But then I felt an affinity to this magnificent creature, the Grizabella of the butterfly world, who seemed perfectly content to flutter about, posing in its less-than-stellar state, and I loved it all the more because of it.

We are so quick to tear things apart when they fail to be what we want them to be. Who knows what this creature has gone through to reach such a state? Who knows the trials and tribulations of what it’s like to have your wings torn to shreds? And who has surrendered a perfect beauty to something other, and had to go on tending to life, procuring nectar, soaring to survive? Not me. I’ve been lucky in that respect. This butterfly, I think, is the most beautiful butterfly of the summer.

Saying good-bye to friends, even friends whom I’m intending to see in a few weeks, is always a sad time. Especially when it’s at the end of one of those weekends that comes together so perfectly. Such was the case when JoAnn, Peaches, Kim, and Ali left us last Sunday. As is tradition, JoAnn made a nice brunch spread of eggs and bacon, while I roasted some potatoes. Ali brought the sweet breads, Kim did a few dishes, and Peaches taught me a killer Bloody Mary mix.

As much as I love a decent dinner, brunch has always been where it’s at. But even better than brunch is the gathering of friends old and new, on a summer weekend in early August, when all seems right with the world. Those moments don’t come along often enough.

Luckily, there will be more – here, and in Boston, and on the Cape – and the best part of having good friends is that they’re always present somehow.

Last weekend we had some friends from Cape Cod up for a little summer gathering. It began with a batch of lavender cocktails, moved into a decent ros̩, and ended up with a bunch of daisy chains. We went easy on the first night Рwhich may have been a first for us (some are still reeling from an Amber Jewel evening where we never quite moved beyond the living room for seven hours of emotional roller-coasters). This was a far cry from that, and a nice entry into the weekend.

Summer days with good friends – is there a more perfect balm upon any wound? JoAnn and Ali have been in our circle for years, and whenever they visit it’s like time spent with long-lost family. It’s easy and it clicks.

As dinner was done, and the day gave way to night, the backyard patio glowed with candlelight. Early August sometimes gets lost in the summer shuffle. We embraced the evening, the time together, and talked of things old and new.

The last full month of summer was upon us. It was in the air. A shimmering beauty drifted among the flickering candles, a night breeze carried over the pool. Colorful curtains billowed gently, offering hints of the garden growing dimmer.

We held onto it for as long as we could, before the mosquitoes pushed us inside and the night went black.

Stop what is going through your head right now. Do not do the math. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. Somehow, it was my 20th High School reunion last weekend, and though I couldn’t make the actual sit-down dinner on Saturday, we did manage to make it to the Friday night cocktail hour meet-and-greet at the Recovery Room in Amsterdam, NY. (And let’s face it, I’m more of the cocktail hour guy than the buffet dude.)

Two of my best friends from high school – who remain so to this day – stopped by my parents’ home, where we said hello and did some pre-gaming. Ann and Suzie joined Andy and I, along with my parents, my brother, and the twins for some reminiscing before we made our way to the Recovery Room.

Once there, I saw faces familiar and forgotten. FaceBook has made it slightly less surreal to see old schoolmates from two decades ago, but it’s still strange. In so many ways, I thought I would always feel like the kid I was in high school, and at our tenth reunion I felt that way a bit, but no more. The last ten years, which were in large part much more stable than the ten years before that, have changed me in ways that resonate more deeply when compared with my high school self. In the past, I cared a lot more what others thought (even if it wasn’t much, it was still more). This time around I simply enjoyed the moment, listening to what people were doing in their lives, laughing at what we had once done in the past, and discussing where we still wanted to go.

Of course with a support system like Ann and Suzie, it’s impossible not to have a good time. And for the next milestone number that rolls around we may just ditch the formal festivities and do our own reunion small and sweet. That’s all it’s really about anyway.

As for my classmates, most of them have only improved with age (or the ones that didn’t never made it to the meet and greet). Until the 25th, go Rams!