Am I the only one whose reader has been exploding with post after post of outdoor concerts, berry recipes, beach photos and various other summer worshipping material? I have moments of envy for that kind of commitment to blogging, and there may be a time in my life where I feel compelled and capable of documenting all the wonders of the season online but I came to accept that 2012 would not be that year. There’s been a lot of upheaval in our lives lately. We are trying to sell our home in a down market and my work has been intensifying steadily for months, calling for long hours and changing deadlines and a lot of hopping around between being a tactician and strategist.
It was more important to our sanity and our relationship to try being present in the moment, feeling free and reflective and utterly without care for time or responsibilities whenever those opportunities presented themselves. That, for me, is what summer is about. Slowing down, appreciating the small things and being spontaneous. So, after much unproductive critical self-analysis, I’ve determined this little blog caesura to be a case of practicing what I preach.
I know that I could have come here every other day and posted photos of the shiny bulbous blackberries we picked as the sun was going down last night, or my fire engine red gumboots in the mud while I gathered eggs and made funny noises at pigs with the sweetest two-year-old girl I know, or the cloudy vibrant pints of Whistler Brewing’s Pineapple Express Wheat Ale that we drank in the backyard on Saturdays after my long runs; but what would that say about both of us? I can only hope you were out making your own summer memories and that this little post-script from me will suffice.
Silky smooth white chocolate cheesecake and creme brulee ice cream from Gray Monk winery. Made worthwhile by the candid chat, white wine, candlelight and total heart-happiness of a date with my big sis.
Having a husband who embraces being silly. Exhibit A:
And I didn’t even post the one of him pretending to pee on the Olympic rings in Whistler.
Charcuterie in the sunshine.
What could I even say?
Being in the Okanagan for our nephew’s first birthday was more special to me than I could put in words (for which I am sorry since that is the purpose of putting it in writing!) It is hard to think of any moments in life that might not be made just a teeeeensy bit lighter after burrowing kisses into the chubby, soft little neck-shoulder-ear nook of a kid who loves you. Giggles very much appreciated.
The Farmer’s market in Penticton. Because you don’t always have to rush home from vacation. Also, there was a lady running a homemade cookie stand, therefore I believe my presence to require exactly no further justification.
Total awe and funky mushrooms really clear the mind.
Channeling our inner Andrew Zimmern and diving into offal tapas.
We are now capable of properly using the terms “barnyardy” and “poopy in a good way.” How cultured of us!
Award winning BBQ, bacon maple gelato, and rides. It turns out that if you are having trouble getting into vacation mode, spending a few minutes on the Til-a-Whirl just might get you there.
Mr. ST would be upset if I didn’t mention how much we enjoyed also all the cock and ass…..in the farm exhibition. Geez, you foul minded jerks.
Snuggling barefoot at the Vince Vacarro concert in Whistler’s Olympic Plaza. Watching with nostalgia, tenderness and judgement at a group of care free, inebriated girls swirling and jumping and singing to each other like no one else was there, directly right in front us.
I believe this means I am getting old. It’s okay.
Wicked train wreck forest art. There are still people out there who take waste and disaster and turn it into something beautiful.
Rhubarb. Simmered with ginger, lemon zest, butter and a bit of honey and you are the greatest topping ever for greek yogurt parfaits.
Girlfriends. I am big believer in quality over quantity and mine continue to deliver.
Good runs. Doesn’t everyone just want to run away sometimes and feel alive?
Simple date nights: secret beaches, good coffee, huddling in front of the sunset.
Mutually rewarding silence.
The echoing rush of a waterfall. Makes current struggles feel positively transitory and insignificant.
All of these were moments that lightened my step, or filled me with gratitude, or gave me pause to reconsider who I am, where I am, and whether I really need to know what’s around the next corner. Our home still isn’t sold, my career continues a shaky climb, but we are still dreaming together and I am feeling the joy of seasonal change from the inside out.
Here’s to transitions.