Over Winter Toast and Summer-fruit Jam

The pages of the book of summer fly by – a few are intriguing and you study them, maybe you read them twice, but most zip along …

And when the proverbial teacher asks, “So tell me – how did you spend your summer holidays?” – it’s all a blurr of sun and warm nights and barefoot people. 

   We had a long one here this year – stretching its arms wide into September – lawn chairs are still out, grass is green (so moisture too), tomatoes still ripening on the branch, pops of red geraniums in our zone three world.

   Part of the summer was like a dream – the few weeks that we travelled in a giant arc across the world to Croatia –  to marvel at the Adriatic landscape, and where we were so kindly treated to the hospitality of another land.

And then there was the long bit we spend ‘back around the other side of the lake’ in B.C., celebrating my loving parent’s sixty years of marriage, or just celebrating sand and pebbles and tiny minnows with a three-year old and her baby sister.

Over winter toast and summer-fruit jam, we will remember the goodness of

all that.