Publisher's Letter
June always feels a little like a blur. Maybe it is the daylight stretching past bedtime, or maybe it is the way the heat lingers like an old friend who does not know when to leave. Or perhaps, after the whirlwind of May, with its banquets, ball games, final exams, and a calendar that nearly did us in, it is the relief of finally catching our breath. Thankfully, my kids are past the school party phase, so May was not quite the circus it used to be when juice boxes and classroom crafts ruled the week.
When I was growing up, summer looked different. It did not come with a schedule full of camps or apps to track every minute. It came with a backyard hose, bare feet on hot pavement, talk shows, and soap operas. I cannot be the only one who watched The Young and the Restless and All My Children. I remember my Nanny rushing home on her lunch break to catch every minute she could of All My Children while scarfing down a sandwich. There was no streaming and no pause button. You just had to make it work.
Before there were screens, there were streams. Forts were made from sticks. Lightning bugs, or as some call them, “fireflies,” were caught in jars. We camped often in the summer, and I would catch lightning bugs and release them inside the camper at night. I do not think anyone knew I did it, but I loved lying there in the dark, wondering where the next little flicker would glow. Summer was not planned or polished. It simply existed.
These days, my boys are 13 and 14, and while their summers may look a little different, the feeling is still there. Their summer days often start on the golf course with friends and end with a dip in the pool—the kind of pace that feels just right for this season of life. What I love most is that they come home sweaty, sunburned, and full of stories. None of them involve a screen. It is the same rhythm I remember, just with different details.
In this issue, we are celebrating that rhythm. The slower pace, the connection to the outdoors, and the people who live close to the land. From farmers’ markets filled with local goods to stories rooted in purpose, these pages are full of reminders that the best things take time.
You will meet Mali Glass and learn about her work with equine therapy at Wamba Ranch, where healing happens through connection and quiet moments. We are introducing a flower farmer and homesteader who made the bold decision to slow down and build a business that reflects her values. For anyone feeling inspired to return to the basics, we are even sharing an easy sourdough starter to help you begin. And of course, we have included your favorite monthly features, familiar faces, local stories, and the community spirit that makes this place feel like home.
There is something grounding about being outdoors, about remembering food does not begin at the grocery store, and fun does not require Wi-Fi. Sometimes, the best stories begin in the garden, at a roadside stand, or under a sky full of stars. Wishing you a summer filled with sunshine, rest, and all the beautiful, unplanned moments in between.
