I really dislike summer. I'd say I hate it, but my livelihood depends on a long, hot season, and also, I don't want to hurt its feelings. So I'll just leave it at "really dislike".
This is my basil now.
Isn't that pitiful? That's how I felt almost the entire month of August. Walking outside was like being in a sauna. And I don't like saunas. Because they're stinkin' hot and humid. Blegh.
But the past week or so, the air has been drier, and there's just the beginning hint that this weather might not last forever. Pootie mentioned kayaking the other day and my first thought wasn't "Outside? What's that? Why, why, why would you want to go out there?"
We're starting to lose a few leaves on the sweetgum.
And maybe it's not because the tree is dried out and burned to a crisp.
The night-time low forecasts are actually beginning to start with sixes. (!) I know!!
So the desire to be in my boarded-up kitchen is beginning to stir. After a string of meals ranging from medicore to utter and complete disaster, combined with most of our friends being unavailable throughout the season (beach families in the summer are busier than Santa Claus in November), and the fact that I've gotten sick of tomatoes, corn, peaches and basil again meant that a thick layer of dust was building up at Cafe' 305.
I miss our friends, and I miss being in the kitchen. I miss butternut squash and brussels sprouts (even if Pootie doesn't) and pears and apples and nuts and BOURBON! (I know, you can put mint in it and make juleps, but it's just not the same, somehow.) I miss hot tea and my hands and feet being cold. (Yeah, I'm jumping the gun here - MONTHS before it's cold enough for that.)
But now, things are looking up! I've been planning menus, marking new recipes I want to try, and filling up our social calendar. Time to dust off the stove, spiffy up the house and yard, pull out some pots and pans, and clean the slimy remnants of cucumber out of my vegetable bin. (Hey. I'm not perfect.)
And I guess I should pull off whatever I can salvage from the basil and make the last batch of pesto for the season.
It's gonna be a small one.