Childhood summers are the best, because they are carefree in a way like they will never be again. Growing up in Ormoc, a quiet city by the sea, summers meant endless play in my grandmother’s spacious house, and in the family farm that was fifteen minutes away. It meant climbing old trees, lazy hot afternoon siestas, star gazing picnics, and swimming in the sea ’til we became like salt dolls.

Sometimes my parents would take us on the slow boat to nearby Cebu for short vacations. And then later to Manila or the foggy northern city of Baguio where city folk took refuge from the heat. Later in high school and college, summer might bring a boy, and sometimes some heartache. But it was always an adventure.

Whatever it brings, summer is not about when, but where or how and with whom. This year I feel blessed to be able to take the kids away from the city. Hoping they make good memories so that summer becomes eternal in their minds. And maybe I’ll climb those trees again and take lots of siestas. Again. And I will swim in the sea, my old friend, if it will have me. I will swim in the sea, and the sea inside.

What are your plans this summer? I hope you have a good one, and thanks for reading.

Also, check it out. This beautiful secret (for now) beach, this perfect local summer snack, printed espadrilles, this breezy top, and the top ten free free things to do in New York.

*Photo by Ina Amor Mejia

So here I am, always looking for an excuse to wear a flower crown. If I were five years old and could get away with it, I’d wear one to the park, at the library, or just because. They always look best when the flowers are mixed with green, like with leaves or buds. Arranged in a way that says they were foraged for just that moment. Even fabric or paper blooms can get this look when chosen carefully. And when the crown is worn loosely and merrily, with silky flowing hair or side-swept in a messy bun.

In her piece for the New Yorker, Seeing Themselves: Photographers’ Self-Portraits, Jessie Wender says that the difference between a selfie and a self-portrait is that the latter requires “more consideration, more composition, more psychological insight and aesthetic care.” And so much more imagination, if I might add. I fell hard for these self-portraits by these rising photographers (Zev is fifteen), although the gifted Noell Osvald insists she is not one. I thought that it was apt that they all belong to this selfie-obsessed generation, and yet they transcend it with these photographs. These stunning, thoughtful, powerful photographs that show a depth beyond their years.

This week over Facebook my mom told me, “Hurry is one of the saddest things in the world.” I thought about that very briefly. But only because, lately, hurry has been the operative word in my world. I haven’t had time for reflection, the deep kind. For peace and quiet. For that inner life. It’s just been all about work and to do lists. All about deadlines and getting from point A to point B with all possible speed. The weekends bring a small respite from the stress but it always returns on Mondays, and with a vengeance. So when a Saturday road trip, the first one of the year, presented itself unexpectedly the other day, promising to take me away from all this relentless hurrying, I did what every depleted, exhausted and harried person would do. I said yes.

When you’ve got a sweet tooth and adore chocolate like I do, you will have very strong opinions about what makes the perfect chocolate cake. Rich and moist, with lush frosting and good chocolate flavor but not too sweet. A cake that’s good with coffee for dessert at home, or as a midnight snack with a cold glass of milk to enjoy in your jammies. Or with a glass of champagne for fancier times? I think I’ve found that cake!