“Telescope” will always remind me of last summer. I spent the vast majority in it in Kingston, a university town if there ever was one: small enough that the university makes a huge impact, but large enough that it can pretend otherwise. Student living offers few amenities, so you learn to cherish the ones you have. For me, that meant a big window with a view of the park. I spent many an afternoon after work gazing out that window, watching the breeze flirt with the full, green leaves of the tree in the backyard across from ours.

Mirah’s short but splendid career as a solo artist can be aplit into two halves. There’s the later, mature half, where she mellows out and flirts with Phil Elvrum’s production technique to create two albums of low-key, restrained pop songs. And then there’s the earlier “girl with a guitar” stage, where she sang sweet and winning songs about love and lust and playing Atari with her brother. “Telescope” belongs to the latter tradition.

It’s not a crisp recording, and she really is just a girl with a guitar at this point, but that all only adds to the charm. This is a song made for basking in the sun without a care or worry in the world. If you could use a little bit of carefree spirit, Mirah’s got it in spades.