I like using terms like "grotto" and "grove" in my stories, and I have a pretty good image of what I mean -- and this is pretty close to the mark. I can't always spend much time in my own little grotto (when the State Bird makes its appearance one needs netting and gear, hard to read through) but this year I'm going to put some seating around my little firebowl and if necessary hang a citronella candle from my shepherd hook. You can SORT of see it, on the right, if you "biggify".
But that's not all I'm anticipating. No, I prowled around at the back and I've discovered that there's quite the thicket of what discovered to be black raspberries. You might remember my query from last year, which several wise folks identified....and I brought a few of the ripe berries inside to examine. Mr Dearling promptly popped some into his mouth and declared them very "mmmmmmmm"; he is still Among the Living so they were determined to be what I thought. I didn't get a great many last year, but there are a LOT of these this year:
In truth, there are a LOT more canes, and all of them (including some small short ones) are loaded with these little clusters of Future Noms. Some of them, behind the garage, are going to take protective gear and thick gloves to get to, but I mean to do it. I'm sure there are about a gazillion lovely recipes for black raspberries around - my plan, what I'm anticipating, is buying some genuine cream and splashing it over them. There are things about which I'm a purist.
Further Anticipation: I am waiting for the Lovely Daughter, and we're heading out to the WORT Block Party. That's our indie community radio station, and one of the only two radio stations I listen to regularly (the other is the public radio). The block party is always raucous, fun, crowded - and my Favorite Food Cart will be there. I've been jonesin' for a bowl of Black Bean Chili these many days, and today is the day. So I'm off to fill that particular anticipation and will resume upon my return.
NOTE: it's a finorkin' 120 degrees outside (ok, so I exaggerate)!
NOTE: just exactly what DOES "jonesin'" mean, and where did it come from?
OK! So it's the next day (truth in advertising). Here's the front door of our super-cool radio station. It's called "Back Porch Radio", and it's listener-sponsored. Most of the DJs are volunteers and it's eclectic to say the least. On Sunday morning they have a program of medieval music that is perfect for tea-and-newspaper time; there's a show hosted by Bill Malone, our local bluegrass &c expert; there are shows in Spanish and shows in Chinese. I love WORT -- DISCLAIMER: (and this is NOT a plug, just a fact).
But only guess what? It was HOT! Perfect weather for a block party, but NOT good weather for the black-bean chili. No way, Jose'.
So Lovely Daughter and I made a beeline for the Santa Fe trailer and had -- their home-made, fresh icy-cold, fresh gazpacho! And it did the trick, hit the mark, filled the void, &c &c. In honor of the occasion (anything would do) we also shared an order of Chips and Guacamole - better of which you can't hardly find nowhere. I'm lucky in having raised my daughter to be pretty much immune to embarrassment where her Maternal Unit is concerned, because I shamelessly wiped every last molecule of guacamole out of the container with my index finger. (I also raised a lady - she offered to get me a spoon. I declined.)
I took a picture of it. I really-o, truly-o did. But I ate it.
So last night was the first truly hot night of the season, and it is a little early. So when I got home, I turned on the fan (which Mr Dearling, who also ANTICIPATES, had brought up), pointed it at the sofa, and stretched out for a wee nap. I've said it before, I'll say it again - now: when they make Napping an Olympic event I am SO bringing home the Gold for America.
THIS HOT! Stretch-out-long cat hot. It's like my mother always said (and you've heard it before): "When it's hot out, arrange your limbs so they're not touching." It works.
And as I'm writing this Monday I can report that it's very hot today too, and I have turned on the "cool" in my writing room. I had it on for about 45 minutes; I've turned it off because I'm about to climb into my air-conditioned car and run a few errands: drop off a S***load of magazines in the Trade Bin at the air-conditioned library, drive through the bank (so I can stay in my air-conditioned car). Then I think I'm going to stop at (air-conditioned) Joann Fabrics. I need a thimble, I can't find any of my utilitarian ones. And shopping for thimbles is almost as bad as shopping for underpants. They think grown-ups have bigger fingers, and little children only use thimbles for fun or show or poking their brothers or wossname.
I can see that the heat is making me cranky, so I'll stop here....but with a close-up of Mistress Evangeline in the Heat.
'Nother DISCLAIMER: the light behind her is our ever-burning lamp. It's a very non-bright compact-fluorescent, therefore puts out no additional heat. I are green.