It's been one of those strange weeks where all the seasons collide. I went to a farmers' market on Saturday and returned with summer seasonal treats: peaches, tomatoes, and corn on the cob from the Mills River farm. They all turned out to be winners. Monday I made a peach cobbler (actually more like a pie really, lattice crust and all).
Yesterday I saw candy corn and autumn mix in the stores for the first time--I bought those because I felt such a surge of longing. Fall is surely on the way, and I see a yellow or red leaf here and there. I'm trying to stay present in this summer season.
This week has been rainy, an interseason of sorts. The nights are cool-ish, moist, but we've slept with the window opened anyway. Some nights, it's been perfect. Other nights, I've woken up, damp-haired, wishing for dehumidified air.
This week is Christmas in July week at Lutheridge, the camp that contains the residential section where I live. This week and next, I'm delivering camper mail. Yesterday my friend brought us fun headbands--at the 1982 World's Fair in Knoxville, we called these "deelyboppers."
One of my favorite memories of this summer will be driving through camp in the golf cart of a neighbor with Christmas music blaring.
Yesterday I returned the golf cart and walked the short distance back to my house. Thundered rumbled, and a bit of rain fell, and I breathed in deeply of the smell of hot asphalt and steaming rain. Delightful!
This morning, I made this tweet, which delighted me in a different way: "Here for #5amwritersclub, here to write about the joys of peach cobbler for breakfast, the peach cobbler that was in the icebox, but no one was saving it for breakfast but me. (I am no William Carlos Williams, nor was meant to be, but I do love literary allusions!)."
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