Summertime
It's been a helluva summer so far. What began with our first real vacation in years has since grown to include a medical timeout. Don't worry, everything is fine, but it has been an intense six weeks. I am grateful for good doctors and nurses, and for a great family of friends. And words truly cannot express how grateful I am for the strength, surety, good spirits, patience and, importantly, sense of humor of my partner John.
If such an interlude accomplishes nothing else, it brings into sharp focus the importance of valuing every minute by realizing it to the fullest. We think of summer as a lazy season; a time to relax, to step back from the busy-ness of daily life. And summer does have that side: it is the season of days at the beach, weekends with friends, quiet afternoons of iced tea and good books.
But summer has its industrious side. Sunday is Lammas, the celebration of the first harvest. Growers rise early and work long days to gather grains, fruits and vegetables. Cooks turn the milled grain into bread; the first slice, slathered with butter or drizzled with honey, is set out as a gesture of gratitude. All of those fruits and vegetables find their way not just to lunch and dinner tables but into jars of relish, jam, jelly, chutney, sauce, juice. Every can put up on an August afternoon ensures a meal on a January night, a smile on a March morning, a welcome for Thanksgiving visitors.
So far this summer, we've turned this abundance into sparkling fruit salad and gazpacho bursting with freshness. We've enlivened our summer cookouts with savory London Broil and tantalizing compound butters. We've indulged in exotic ice cream and decadent apricot bars. We've had guests over for cocktails and fondue. And on rainy days, we've stayed inside with a stack of old movies and made California lunch plates worthy of Mildred Pierce herself.
I've gotten started on the canning: so far I've brandied cherries for a year's worth of Manhattans, candied oranges for weekend desserts, made fennel relish for autumn pork roasts. The blackberries at the farmstand were breathtaking; I had to preserve their fleeting beauty by turning them into jam. Just today, I noticed that the strawberries have come into their own; those we don't eat fresh will become jars of sexy jam laced with a shadow of balsamic.
Yes, there's much to do before Labor Day. That weekend, John and I hope to engage our usual Labor Day weekend of redecorating in our urban home: this year, the target will be the living room. And I still have to scan and write about the memory pages I made of our trip to L.A., before we go back this autumn. Honoring the ongoing passage of time by preserving memories is one of the fundamental values here at Urban Home. Which brings me to a final, but vital, note of gratitude to every one who reads the Urban Home Blog. This summer, readership has continued to climb, including one day of Urban Home being one of the top-clicked blogs in the lifestyle arena. So thank you, readers, for giving me one more reason to keep house, to keep writing about it, and to keep going.
If such an interlude accomplishes nothing else, it brings into sharp focus the importance of valuing every minute by realizing it to the fullest. We think of summer as a lazy season; a time to relax, to step back from the busy-ness of daily life. And summer does have that side: it is the season of days at the beach, weekends with friends, quiet afternoons of iced tea and good books.
But summer has its industrious side. Sunday is Lammas, the celebration of the first harvest. Growers rise early and work long days to gather grains, fruits and vegetables. Cooks turn the milled grain into bread; the first slice, slathered with butter or drizzled with honey, is set out as a gesture of gratitude. All of those fruits and vegetables find their way not just to lunch and dinner tables but into jars of relish, jam, jelly, chutney, sauce, juice. Every can put up on an August afternoon ensures a meal on a January night, a smile on a March morning, a welcome for Thanksgiving visitors.
So far this summer, we've turned this abundance into sparkling fruit salad and gazpacho bursting with freshness. We've enlivened our summer cookouts with savory London Broil and tantalizing compound butters. We've indulged in exotic ice cream and decadent apricot bars. We've had guests over for cocktails and fondue. And on rainy days, we've stayed inside with a stack of old movies and made California lunch plates worthy of Mildred Pierce herself.
I've gotten started on the canning: so far I've brandied cherries for a year's worth of Manhattans, candied oranges for weekend desserts, made fennel relish for autumn pork roasts. The blackberries at the farmstand were breathtaking; I had to preserve their fleeting beauty by turning them into jam. Just today, I noticed that the strawberries have come into their own; those we don't eat fresh will become jars of sexy jam laced with a shadow of balsamic.
Yes, there's much to do before Labor Day. That weekend, John and I hope to engage our usual Labor Day weekend of redecorating in our urban home: this year, the target will be the living room. And I still have to scan and write about the memory pages I made of our trip to L.A., before we go back this autumn. Honoring the ongoing passage of time by preserving memories is one of the fundamental values here at Urban Home. Which brings me to a final, but vital, note of gratitude to every one who reads the Urban Home Blog. This summer, readership has continued to climb, including one day of Urban Home being one of the top-clicked blogs in the lifestyle arena. So thank you, readers, for giving me one more reason to keep house, to keep writing about it, and to keep going.
No, Eric, thank you for writing. Love you to bits!
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