Summer's Bounty.

It's long been known that I am a summer girl.  I love this season for so many reasons - the long days, plentiful sunshine, open windows, warm air, beach time, vacations, flip flops, sun kissed skin, the beauty of a nice cool glass of iced tea sipped outside while reading a good book. I love too the idea of trusting nature as she heats up; of letting her force us to slow down a bit and not take ourselves quite as seriously as we usually do. 

Oh and everything, everything is in bloom.

If I can't choose summer as my season, I'd default to springtime.  After a long, hard winter it's a joy to see flowers begin to pop up through the dirt, to watch bright green buds appear on trees.  But summer is when the real magic happens - trees are full, gardens explode, flowers bloom everywhere you look.

And then there's the produce.

Used to be, I didn't think I was too much of a cook.  And maybe, by some standards, I'm still not.  But the thing about this time of year, with all of its beautifully ripe and delicious fruits and vegetables, is that you don't have to have too much talent with a skillet to whip up some pretty phenomenal tasting dishes.  That's what I love about summer cooking.  You pick up a nice looking tomato or two, add a little olive oil and salt, and voila! you have your meal.  If you're in the mood to get fancy you add a few basil leaves and some burrata.  Nothing better.  

Or you eat an entire carton of blueberries that's been warmed in the sun all in one sitting before you even realize what you've done.

Confession: sometimes I worry, as I get older and deal with more responsibilities, a never ending to-do list, and general Adult malaise, that parts of my life are losing a little bit of their spark and magic.  As long as I have known myself (which is my entire life, of course) I have been genuinely amazed and in complete and utter love with living.  It sounds Pollyanna, I know but from the time I was a young elementary school student and for the first time feeling cognizant and aware of the world around me I have worked hard to appreciate the little things and to stop and smell the roses, if you will.  To me noticing and paying attention have long been the key to what makes our own unique and individual stories so powerful, so important, and yes, so unique and perfect in each moment.

Lately I have been trying to slow down, just as the summer demands.  I've been working hard to notice the little things - all of the little things I feel like I have always loved and cherished.  It has been hard for me to do this as of late, for a myriad of reasons.  Stressful things keep cropping up and I'm easily frustrated with things both in and out of my control.  Occasionally I lose my patience in a way I didn't know I could or find myself fighting battles that I never wanted to fight. There are angry and annoyed and stressful events that stir a part of me that has never really come to life before, there are things that bother me and are no longer quite as easy to just shake off without a second thought.

(My girl Taylor helps though.) 

There will always be bad and evil - people, issues, situations.  There will always be a dark side.  All of my life I have operated as an optimist, I've sought out the silver linings because I don't want the bad and the ugly to win.  The world has enough of that already.  We need more light.  More presence.

I know that I need to keep doing the best that I can do and just forget all the rest. 

This is easier on some days than it is on others.

The other night I sliced into a perfectly ripe cantaloupe, cutting up the pieces that would be part of my breakfast the next morning.  The sun had just set, there was the slightest breeze blowing in through my kitchen windows and for once, despite my urban location that's usually filled with neighborhood children shouting or horns honking or ambulance sirens blaring, the only sound I could hear was my knife cutting through the cantaloupe and hitting the wooden cutting board.

This. I thought to myself.  This moment, this season, this simple task of slicing fruit on a quiet and gentle summer night.  This, I could do for forever.