We swam in lakes nearly every single day. I ran in drenching humidity every morning. We went to The Taste of Dorset, an annual celebration in a town that only exists in the summer, and has more restaurants per capita then any other place in North America (or so they say at least). We fell asleep to the call of loons every night. We ventured to the North Shore and dipped our toes in the extremely cold Lake Superior, and slept in the sweetest little log cabin you have ever seen, in the woods.
: Jumping off the dock at Marguerite's house :
: Feeling sun-kissed :
: Little Sparkle :
: Asa found a buddy :
: Andy, Bill, Asa and Marguerite :
: The Taste of Dorset - Minnow racing :
: Grandpa Wayne: