How We Picnic

When we lived in Spain, Flavio and I would pack a picnic of Spanish cheese, baguette, jamon serrano, and boxed wine and head to the Parque del Retiro in Madrid. We'd snuggle under the big shady trees with our books and a blanket, whiling away our summer days listening to the birds sing, chatting, reading, and kissing. Sometimes, Flavio would row me around on the lake. They were such simple, beautiful days and rank as some of my most precious memories.

Yesterday, we cruised up to Del Mar to picnic by the sea. We packed our bag with caprese sandwiches, some (cheeky, illegal) wine, and snacks, and camped out on the grass to enjoy the balmy summer weather and the blue-grey ocean view. The sun never showed up, but we didn't mind. We relaxed and reminisced about life in Spain, and other favorite memories. We read. We frisbeed. Guiri chewed her bone and barked unnecessarily at strangers. We watched dolphins play in the distance. We finished a bottle of Rioja.

This is my favorite part of summer.