summer

Howdy, friends. I did not anticipate being away from this writing space for this long. Summer has a way of sneaking plans our way, doesn’t it?

I began the summer with the best of lazy day intentions.

Then poof!

just like that,

it’s nearing mid-July and all of my days and nights blur into those of working and those spent in rapid fun that seems to slip away much more quickly than my heart may grasp.

I have been traveling.

By boat.

By car.

Some destinations mere minutes away.

Others many hours from home. All somehow become an extension of home just because of the people I’m with.

All paths are well worn and captured through rounds of photos.

I have spent much needed time with family.

Discovered Lost…Thanks mum.

Caught up with the sea and our salty friends.

Wrote so many posts in mind, but the computer never was near. I’m beginning to believe that letting the wind whisk away those fleeting thoughts may not be such a bad thing.

I hope this bounty of photos does the trick. For now.

I promise to get back to the food soon. I have a hankering for something baked and blue, and have frozen some fresh berries that should do the trick as soon as I may sneak a quiet afternoon with myself and our oven.

Happy summah, friends. Do enjoy.

denial

As I while away brisk days, in denial of summer’s premature passing, I’m taking note of the comfort I’m finding in the cuisine of late summer/early autumn. As I bid a reluctant farewell to walks along the heated sands of nearby beaches, zucchini and summer squash shrink in offering and size in the market bins. As I dress in scarves and light jackets, thin boots and denim and corduroy skirts, butternut squash beckon with terracotta skin, promising soups of comfort. Soon.

Denial, still lingering, reminisces. Was indeed a fond summer.

Crossword puzzles on beach towels.

Relieving myself of the fear of getting hurt again, and running. Outside. With aromas and views like these to coax me onward.

Morning lattes on the stonewall.  

Summer feet. Garden goods. The sweet relief of breezes. Loose moods. Falling asleep to lapping waves. Waking to birdsong.

Our pup yelping for never-ending ocean time. His russet coat lightened to blonde in certain, almost hidden sunned spots.

Our families and friends joined in quahog hunts. 

Some of those found tossed on the grill. Plucked with nimble fingers or forks, still steaming and sputtering juice. One lap through a spot of melted butter. Eaten in a round circle surrounding the grill.

No hesitation between the shell releasing its clasp and our nabs. Others are now frozen, a chilly promise of quahog chowders to come.

Cool grass beneath the stars. And, many looks shared that say, yes, this is a life. 

There is a charm to be found in each season. I, however, am still in a handhold with a summer love. I’ll let go. Soonish. Perhaps with the first taste of the soup I plan to make of the slim leeks and butternut squash lying ready in wait in our fridge. I’ll have a go at them to see if maybe, just maybe, I’ll find solace in the tastes they reveal when married. Maybe then, I’ll be able to let go and forge ahead toward this new again season.