A knuckle-sized frog hopped straight by the woodpile.
A butterfly lit on a thistle.
Chickadees flocked around the bird feeder, making off with safflower seeds.
A long day, reading a long novel.
Excitement: Oliver thundering from the porch toward the rabbit he’ll never catch.
It grew cool, deep shadows stretched across the grass.
Then there were dinner pancakes, made with fresh-laid eggs from the good neighbor’s coop and local blueberries, soaked in a friend’s home-tapped maple syrup.
“Summer afternoon, summer afternoon,” said Henry James. “To me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language.”
Jean Zimmerman 
Do your blueberries have dark skins and light colored pulp? Or are they dark all the way through? They look delicious, no matter what.