[Editor's note: We're staring down winter later than usual here in Chicago, but it's on it's way, that's for sure, and the car seems less and less happy to start in the morning. Heading into the colder months, it brings me comfort to look back on the spectacular summer days we've all enjoyed on tour ­ and these brief notes from the notebook of my buddy Jim take me there. Hope they will for you too. Enjoy the holidays, and send in those stories!]

"Summertime Sketches"
By Jim Brandt

August 1997:

Our old Indian weave blanket spends most of the winter in the trunk, but today its fibers itched my legs beneath a baking, brilliant sky. Ribbons of smoke floated around the group of us, lingering in the air with Rob's jokes and Becca's laughter. Can't remember a nicer afternoon all summer.

Terra's head resting in my lap, eyes squinted against the searing sun. We're so tan now, this late in the summer, June pinks replaced with August bronze.

Car stereo next to us riffing on MMW, the folks walk by all wanting to buy, buy, buy. The dogs all wanted to check out Becca's cooler, but nothing for the canines today.

Loving the scene all week, until: kid threw up next to his car two spots over. Spoiled our idyll only a little, but why lose control before the music even starts and makes it happen for you? I guess not my problem, but aren't we family after all?