There is always coffee



Weekend mornings mean coffee and magazine reading in the garden. It may also mean a walk to the Bread Bar for breakfast, if we are really lucky.  A breakfast that will keep us going so that lunch is skipped in favour of an early drawn out dinner. A dinner that is always, always, followed by dessert. Oh how I love the weekend. 






Today is Monday and there will be none of the above. There is coffee of course, always, always coffee, and then garbage to take out, a run and work to get to. But there will be sweet summer peaches today on my morning granola - so I have that.

Hot and sweet


It has been so hot. There was a respite a couple of days ago but then this morning the freshness is gone. Oh how I love fresh as opposed to muggy. Fresh will hit you directly in the face while muggy just envelopes you. Thank goodness for the farmer's market and the barbeque and Kevin behind it as cooking in the kitchen is the last thing I want to do at the end of the day. Baking is accomplished first thing in the morning or late in the evening and it was about ten o'clock at night that I made a coffee cake of sorts with the last of the rhubarb.  Sprinkled with brown sugar and cinnamon, it will convert almost any rhubarb hater as I've witnessed first hand.



This season's raspberry jam is almost gone even though Court and I picked almost twice the usual number of berries. It has been spread on bread and toast and is sometimes accompanied by peanut butter. It's a quick lunch that requires no cooking (see above) and that the kids can help themselves to. I come home at the end of my work day to sticky knives in the sink and crumbs on the counter.


We keep tucking the odd flower from the garden or Queen Anne's Lace from a walk into a mason jar on the table. It also holds remnants of a bouquet gifted to me by a friend's daughter.  It reminds me of them and the good times we have shared this summer. I know there will be more to come.


It was the first day of summer


We were at the park. Court and I wishing that the spray pad were working.  It was the beginning of a heat wave, the beginning of summer, and instead of splashing, Court is hanging upside down on a swing kicking dust in the air.
We decide to get in the car and drive to the nearest splash pad. Not as convenient as across the street but if anything, making the extra effort will wash away the dirt which now covers my son.
There are so  many families here.  I am now the relaxed mom with a book tucked under my arm but I remain slightly envious of the newer parents standing within arms reach of their chubby babies.  Then I remember that I am 39.  Sometimes I look down at my thighs and wish they could be 29 year old thighs and then I realize that eventually you just have to be content and accept.  Buy board shorts or a tankini.  Kinda the same thing with the baby envy although I still find myself tear up a bit when I catch the long legs of my baby run by.
So now I let myself read a page or two before I lift my head to find him in the crowd. He's made a friend already, as is his way, and I go back to my book.




perfect day


Me. Happy at the end of a perfect summer day. I say perfect because it nearly was.

It started early with coffee and Kinfolk in the garden.  I came inside after hanging clothes and whispered in Charlotte's ear.  I was hoping to entice her to get up and go raspberry picking but she didn't fall for it and instead fell back to sleep.  So it was my sidekick and I that headed to the farm and filled our baskets and, if you were him, your belly, with sweet berries.

It was supper time when we packed a picnic and headed to the lake where we cooled off and built castles in the sand.

That was the beginning of what was supposed to be a short week that has in fact felt incredibly long. But I see more summer days like this ahead although they will be somewhat few and far between. Just this morning Court wondered aloud why I worked so much this summer and questioned when my next day off would be.  Tomorrow, dear child, tomorrow.