Thursday, July 19, 2012

Committing to Memory

As a writer, things become so much more real and permanent if I can commit them to my memory with the written word. Right now is one of those idyllic summer moments I don't ever want to forget, so I thought I would describe it as it happens in the hopes that I won't soon forget this feeling.
It is the afternoon, the time of day when Abby is asleep in her room (or else playing in the sun's rays on her floor), and the babies have just nodded off in the nursery. I sat on my back porch with them in the shade, on a blanket and me in my patio chair, feet propped up on another. They cooed at the blowing trees and I put a small vase of fireweed and yellow field flowers on the ground for their visual stimulus.They smiled and sighed. I smiled and sighed.
Now I can hear Hailey gla-glaaing herself to sleep through her open window, and I am back on the porch, feet propped up, sunhat on, staring at the chain of Mount MacIntyre mountains. They are so green and deep-hued right now. There are bees buzzing and nearby trucks running, putting in a neighbour's landscaping. I am sipping yesterday's sun tea through a straw and feel victorious: this is absolutely the best glass of sun tea yet. It's a scoop of David's Tea Pink Flamingo (a lot of hibiscus, dried fruits, carrot shavings and chamomile), a lemon wedge, and cut strawberry and about a 1/2 teaspoon of honey that have been fermenting in my fridge since I brought it indoors last night. It is cool, tart, rich and perfect.
I have no dinner to prep as we've been invited to a barbecue. The salad I am bringing is already assembled in the fridge: baby spinach, basil, sliced strawberries, goat cheese and pecans with a dressing ready to go made with maple syrup, olive oil, balsamic vinegar and Dijon mustard. Man, summer tastes good. I got the strawberries and basil at a fruit stand that's only open through the summer months up here. It's not strictly  local, but the owners try to bring in fruit from as close as possible in B.C., and some local growers sell their crops too. I say, with produce this fresh, and the plates so rich and flavourful, I am a happy, well-fed lady.
Now, back to my Jodi Picoult book-- because summer laziness, sunny day heat and a nice glass of sun tea call for literature that isn't especially deep or foreboding.

2 comments:

  1. heaven...love your description and I can picture everything you are describing. Funny enough I am basking in the afterglow of sleepy kids from an afternoon of sun and water and sipping ice cold fizzy lemonade while reading Sophia Kinsella

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