Everyone’s been warning me that where I currently live, summer can be scorchingly hot.
So far, though, none of my fears have materialised (I have neither air-conditioning, nor an electric fan, decent or otherwise). It’s been beautifully cool (sometimes even a little chillier in the mornings that I’d expected of summer), but sunny, or, at least, patchy. Rain is warmish summer rain, not the kind you can freeze to death in, or even catch cold. I live in what must have previously been a cloister for Catholic nuns, with solid walls and cold brick floor, so my Plan B of desperation was that I would bring my pillow and duvet downstairs and sleep on the stairs, ala the littlest Von Trapp girl from The Sound of Music. I have not yet had to resort to this.
Cold soups weren’t in my vocabulary before I went away to study in a temperate country for the first time, and summers were very, very….well, summery. In my mind, soups were hot: clear and brothy, creamy, or a bit gluey.
But then there were those hot summer days on which meaty or potatoey dishes just made me feel a little bit queasy. You know, beer and beach and barbecue days. Lawn chairs and sprinkler days. Swimming pools and late alfresco dinner days. Sunscreen and hats and hammocks days.
I just love freshly-made gazpacho on days like that. Just enough savoury and sweet; spicy and smooth. Yeah, grateful for gazpacho.
Picture attribution: Photo by HarlanH. Some rights reserved by HarlanH. Copyright belongs to the creator. Use of this picture in no way indicates an affiliation with the creator of the image, nor does it indicate that the creator shares the views reflected by the text.
My favourite pair of sunnies broke a few months ago; I only had two pairs. I finally caved and shelled out a bit of money studentesquely grudgingly to get a pair of good, practical Polaroid sunnies that are also reasonably stylish. I’m really glad I did, because the summer has well and truly kicked in. The world feels less harsh and grating with what I call my new rose-tinted glasses on! I feel just that little bit more languid from behind them, with all the colors polarized and saturated. Mmmm.
Summer is life and warm, open hearts
lying on lawns and brand new starts
Summer is laughter and shorts and cotton
tops. And the grey and cold and dark forgotten.
Human beings are solar-powered; we run on sun
in daylight hours; come undone, un-spun,
in its long absence. We are thermal-powered,
we seek the heat of beach and sand, and flowered,
flourished in the glow of fire and of lush lazy days.
Fresh stone-fruit are simply marvellous! They’re like little round, ruddy, ripe balls of impending summer, all warm golden colours: oranges and reds and yellows and pinks. And dark red and ruby. Mmmmm. Flat peaches and nectarines sooo juicy and sweet I have to eat the standing over the sink and I still have to put my tops in the laundry because the sleeves are all stained and sticky with peach juice. Cherries so ripe and black-red they crush between your molars into rich, tart-sweet pulp and stain your lips blood red. Nom.