rooting the sun

spinach mascarpone soup aka the spinach bolted and here’s what we did

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the sun is early and hot as of recent – a golden vibrato come birdsong morning.  blindless tiny windows spill light into our humble space, enough to rouse eyelids into motion. by midday the shade has disappeared, devoured in whole by the sky’s dedication to day. come evening the heat is the grandest exposure, rocketing roots deeper into the ground and sending fruit to flower in the most generous of ways. summer’s thick and honeyed voice cannot be muted, it only swells. and if you aren’t careful, like I may never grow to be, your food may end up budding. generally this isn’t a cause for concern, unless it’s all of your food, and then you scoff at the heat and haze and make soup.

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radish and herb salad

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it is dark and hot, the looming threat of a stray afternoon storm building generously on our horizon. occasionally i test the temperament of the sky and shoot a backwards glance. the garden is pregnant with success and disaster alike – kindly reminding us that this is, and will always be an open forum. with erratic weather our spring has come so very late, now consciously spilling into the official start of summer. but the beauty of this affair is that what is growing, is what we’ve got – no matter the season. lately our hands have been bent to the earth in embrace of many a red-headed root.

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green pea salad with spicy pea oil dressing

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golden mornings dripping with dew have slowly dissipated into sweltering chaos as soon as the sun is available – a heatwave nonetheless curtsies atop our town. what is technically still spring is aspiring heavily to be summer. beneath the bright sun and heat it exudes has the greenest garden started to unfold. every day brings a  new event; i’m quite fond of the moments spent checking on new developments in the garden – there’s always something.

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green garlic gazpacho

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the season we’ve named spring: initially a quiet flirtation of color and coy, breezy murmurs. hints that she was the answer to the ache of a long winter. we waited, flirted back, and often experienced static. a much belated appearance made her a legend at best. we questioned theory versus practice. occasionally  i’d step outside and watch snow fall unabashed into my glass – a meter to measure patience. and what was once the brevity of an unsure change in season, is now a bloom of fit, tantrum, and tendril.

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shaved asparagus salad with roasted strawberry vinaigrette

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last week seemed the longest extension of time, an uneventful passing of minutes and hours devoid of sun. it’s easy to get carried away in the midst of a seasonal bliss, hastily forgetting that mid-country the weather is wily and unpredictable always. and while a call to a dear friend or mother inevitably implies a week of impressionable sunshine and possibility, there is always the chance that right before your eyes the clouds gather and the rain collects in every gully and gulch – to which it did. so, while we aren’t in the business of allowing time to be wasted – we spent much of it indoors, perfecting the lines of ideas and eagerly summoning the shape of things to come.

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