The relentless persuit of summer ...
When will I accept that I am not a winter person? It is freezing outside. I mean, really, really freezing. It has been snowing several times a week for the last eight weeks ... and it is still January! And I can't get my head around the fact that this cold will be with us for at least another eight, maybe twelve more weeks! So, why do I still leave here? Good question, since I always seem drawn to warmer places, surrounded by sea. And since states of readiness ... but somehow, summer got in the way of finishing them, as I found myself less and less drawn to the computer and more and more drawn to the outdoors, friends and family. I am sure that I will start posting the stories very shortly (once I have worked out how to copyright them!)
Today was such a glorious day that I did finally feel compelled to come back to the computer to reflect on the seasons. The balmy weather and bright autumn sunshine made me realize that I have to savour it. The first day of fall has already come and gone, with winter beckoning around the corner. And this realization has led me, of course, to ponder just exactly where the last few months have gone.
There is just something about an Ontario summer that is so sweet and intense. I guess it is the certainty that the cold blasts of winter are inevitably lying in wait somewhere, to pay their annual visit. Winter is when I like to write, read and cook, while the bittersweet days of autumn are dedicated to reflection, re-evaluating and letting go - mentally, emotionally, and in a practical way, as I empty out and reorganize my closets - one of my several ways of preparing mind, body and soul for the dreaded dark days of winter.
Oh and part of preparing the home for winter also involves food ... this is also the time when, just the like the pioneers, there is the time consuming, but gratifying process of harvesting of the (sub)urban garden crop - the canning of tomatoes, drying of thyme and oregano stalks, shelling, steaming and freezing of luscious Romano beans, slicing, steaming and freezing of zucchini that grow so prolifically, that we can't eat them all or give enough away to prevent the ones on the vine from growing too large. Then there is the preparation of large batches of home-made, minestrone, full of tasty organic treats from the garden. These hearty soups are then packed into mason jars, and placed in the deep freezer for good measure.
This is the comfort food that will sustain me during the winter months, when faced with those long cold and often snowy nights when I can't sleep, I find myself remembering longingly of past soujourns in tropical places. Those times when frustrated by insomnia and hurtling toward panic mode because I know that I have to be at work bright and early the next ... or is it the same morning? ... to face another group of folks looking for support through whatever drama, trauma, confusion or "frazzlement" they have been facing. These are the moments when I remember the thick garden soup that lies, solidified in the bottom of the freezer. I pop open a jar of that wonderful minestrone and alow it to thaw, and then slowly revive it in an old sauce-pan on the gas stove-top. No microwave for this soup! No, this ambrosia from from my mamma's garden, deserves the respect that only a more traditional method of preparation can evoke. As the minestrone slowly melts, warms, and re-forms to its former glory, all the scents of the late summer garden escape and envelope my senses. Sustained by a healthy, summery late night or early morning garden treat, my soul sings, I do some writing and I head back to my warm bed.
So summer becomes my time to celebrate and enjoy family, friends and nature. And the memories then get stored in every jar of minestrone ... just waiting to be retrieved. My little stories are no different ... frozen for now, but waiting to be released very soon.
Today was such a glorious day that I did finally feel compelled to come back to the computer to reflect on the seasons. The balmy weather and bright autumn sunshine made me realize that I have to savour it. The first day of fall has already come and gone, with winter beckoning around the corner. And this realization has led me, of course, to ponder just exactly where the last few months have gone.
There is just something about an Ontario summer that is so sweet and intense. I guess it is the certainty that the cold blasts of winter are inevitably lying in wait somewhere, to pay their annual visit. Winter is when I like to write, read and cook, while the bittersweet days of autumn are dedicated to reflection, re-evaluating and letting go - mentally, emotionally, and in a practical way, as I empty out and reorganize my closets - one of my several ways of preparing mind, body and soul for the dreaded dark days of winter.
Oh and part of preparing the home for winter also involves food ... this is also the time when, just the like the pioneers, there is the time consuming, but gratifying process of harvesting of the (sub)urban garden crop - the canning of tomatoes, drying of thyme and oregano stalks, shelling, steaming and freezing of luscious Romano beans, slicing, steaming and freezing of zucchini that grow so prolifically, that we can't eat them all or give enough away to prevent the ones on the vine from growing too large. Then there is the preparation of large batches of home-made, minestrone, full of tasty organic treats from the garden. These hearty soups are then packed into mason jars, and placed in the deep freezer for good measure.
This is the comfort food that will sustain me during the winter months, when faced with those long cold and often snowy nights when I can't sleep, I find myself remembering longingly of past soujourns in tropical places. Those times when frustrated by insomnia and hurtling toward panic mode because I know that I have to be at work bright and early the next ... or is it the same morning? ... to face another group of folks looking for support through whatever drama, trauma, confusion or "frazzlement" they have been facing. These are the moments when I remember the thick garden soup that lies, solidified in the bottom of the freezer. I pop open a jar of that wonderful minestrone and alow it to thaw, and then slowly revive it in an old sauce-pan on the gas stove-top. No microwave for this soup! No, this ambrosia from from my mamma's garden, deserves the respect that only a more traditional method of preparation can evoke. As the minestrone slowly melts, warms, and re-forms to its former glory, all the scents of the late summer garden escape and envelope my senses. Sustained by a healthy, summery late night or early morning garden treat, my soul sings, I do some writing and I head back to my warm bed.
So summer becomes my time to celebrate and enjoy family, friends and nature. And the memories then get stored in every jar of minestrone ... just waiting to be retrieved. My little stories are no different ... frozen for now, but waiting to be released very soon.
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