Picking lettuce from my garden couldn’t be simpler or more satisfying. This time of year we make big raw salads out of nothing but washed, dried, and tossed greens and a generous splash of balsamic vinaigrette. Sometimes we fancy up our salads with an avocado, sliced cukes and cherry tomatoes served on the side, thank you very much.
The best part is that my kids eat salad greens like they’re going out of style. They may fuss and pick over the rest of the meal, but salads have suddenly become a go-to-food. I can’t tell you how pleased I am with this little development.
It is sunny and hot outside. Perfect weather for kids to slide into the teensy plastic pool in the backyard while I ease back into the hammock, a cool glass of Pinot Grigio nearby. What possibly more could I need?
Patio chairs, that’s what I need. Lots of them. We’re set to entertain three or four grown-up couples in a few weeks and have no place to seat them. Grown-up means my parents and a few others of their, ahem, generation.
My generation is still catching up, and I’ve been focused on procuring things like carseats and strollers and diaper pails (which are, by the way, a total waste of money) and a billion toddler-esque knick-knack-paddy-whack-give-a-dog-a-bone-ish type of particular plastic-esque toys that become critically important in moments unsuspected as important to the parents who are enjoying their wine as the sun sets and a thousand sparks descend to say good night to the earth.
No new furniture for us.
I lean back and glimpse the oh-so-blue sky and puffy clouds that threaten to make it really truly summertime in the Pacific Northwest, and I sigh two minutes later when our two boys crash into the hammock, and I note that the littlest has learned to yell “Battle! Sword! Miles!” words that are genuinely appreciated by his big brother until he gets whacked delicately in the arm or the leg, and the tears come.
It was a lovely evening.
Wishing all my readers a moment of pure Summertime this year.
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