A good mood is back.
I’m going away this afternoon to the shade of Bucks County, the slate-lined pool, the orchards, the infinite meadowed lawn, the yippy dogs, unfamiliar pillows, the pantries lined with red pepper jelly in jars.
I’m sloughing off the city despite the car’s broken air conditioning, the mish mash of bubbled heat and tension closing in. No more week, this is the weekend.
I’ve got my bathing suit, my latest read, my unquenchable thirst for summer and inspiration to keep me cool.
There’s even something to look forward to beyond the present. The dead of August brings an upcoming vacation to the west coast for scoping unfulfilled dreams, but also the harvest of fat yellow tomatoes from the garden. That’s when we make a chilled, chunky gazpacho from scratch, loaded with herbs and heavy with vegetables. It’s sublime with a sloppy BLT made with fresh-picked arugula, toasted grain bread from a local bakery, and thick slabs of crunchy bacon.
We take them to the water and eat them under the sun with popped Frescas, our legs dipped in and our minds empty with ease.
Until then, iced tea and naps, floating and slipping on the grass, will do just fine.