Lightning in a Bottle

One of the most summertimey things in all of summer has to be fireflies.

They are such a uniquely hot-weather phenomenon.

Catching a mason jar full of them is a right of passage.

When we were little, my sister and I, squeamish and normally avoiding anything that crawled, flew, or fell into the general category of "bug",

would catch them and bring them to my dad.

But instead of putting them into a jar, he would pull off their lights

(I know, I know.)

and stick the little blinking butts onto our fingers.

For a few short moments, before the light faded and went out, we would prance around the yard

with our fingers glowing,

the queens of the night.

 

And fireflies are precisely what comes to mind when looking at the works in
Canadian artist Amy Friend's series of photographs she calls Dare alla Luce.

The altering of the vintage images using points of light is a wink and a nod
to the light from which the photographs had been created in the first place.
Friend describes the process as "giving the photographs back to the light."
Fittingly, the series' title is an Italian phrase that translates to describe
the moment of birth.

{All images Amy Friend}

 

Twinkle twinkle, my friends.

xo


The Honeysuckle and the Bee

It was one of those super hot nights last summer.

Too hot to sleep.

Instead, I was wasting the soup-thick moonlit hours lingering over images,

finding inspiration but not the energy to do anything with it.

Too hot.

I paused for a long time on  Local Milk's post about honeysuckle.

Honeysuckle.

It sounded like a dream.

And at this point, it was a dream.

The summer sun had long ago dried the sweet blossoms that grow like wild weeds around the perimeter of the yard.

Next year, I promised myself.

 

So, when the tiny flowers bloomed again come late spring,

I kept my promise.

On a particularly bright and sticky late Sunday morning I set out,

my bare legs seemingly singing out a silent siren's call to every mosquito in a ten mile radius.

But I didn't care.

I was gathering honeysuckle with intent.

I just didn't quite know what that intent was yet.

As my basket filled with fragrant blooms, my mind drifted.

 

Eggs. Sugar. Cream.

Such deceptively simple ingredients yielding infinite possibilities.

Ice cream it would be.

And ice cream it was.

I set forth, sans recipe, with a vague knowledge of what I was doing and a whole lot of honeysuckle.

And, you guys, it was a dream.

A perfectly captured, edible snapshot of summer.



 

Honeysuckle Ice Cream

 

4 cups honeysuckle

2 cups whole milk

2 cups heavy cream

8 large egg yolks

1/2 cup sugar

pinch of salt

 

Gently rinse the honeysuckle, picking out any leaves. Allow to dry on a towel.

Combine the honeysuckle flower, milk, and cream in a bowl.

Cover and let sit in the refrigerator 24 hours.

 

Strain the milk and cream through cheesecloth or a fine mesh strainer into a heavy saucepan.

Bring the mixture to a boil; remove from heat.

Whisk the egg yolks, sugar, and salt in a large bowl.

While still whisking, very slowly add the hot cream mixture into the bowl

(you'll want to keep whisking so you don't cook the eggs).

 

Return the mixture to the pan and cook over medium-high heat until a candy thermometer registers 170 degrees F.

Pour the mixture through a strainer into a large bowl.

Place the covered bowl in the refrigerator overnight or until the custard becomes chilled.

 

Pour the chilled mixture into the bowl of your ice cream maker and follow manufacturer's instructions.

Place finished ice cream into an air tight container and place in freezer for a couple of hours before serving.

Enjoy.

xo

 

She's So High

I have a terrible fear of heights.

Terrible.

In San Francisco, buckling knees and a white-knuckled death grip on the railing had me backtracking my way off the Golden Gate Bridge at as accelerated a snail's pace as my terrified body could move. My family still hasn't forgiven me. And we were only three steps into our journey across (read: still on solid ground).

A trip to Paris had me admiring the iron framework of the Eiffel Tower from the safety of the ground, while the rest of the world climbed up (in the ricketiest elevator ever) to enjoy the magnificent views from above.

My stomach drops at the mere mention of Chicago's Skydeck.

And, now I'm pretty sure I'll be having nightmares about this:

The pool at the Holiday Inn Shanghai is not only 24 stories above ground,

hanging off the side of the building balcony-style,

but it has a GLASS BOTTOM!!!

It must be like being suspended in free-fall, in water, high above busy city streets.

Craziness.

Think I'll keep sticking to a more traditional style swim.

At ground level.

xo

You Say Tomato

A hot, lazy morning, sitting in the backyard with Nephew 1.

Having deep conversations, the sort of which you can only have with three year old boys.

A suggestion, can't remember whose, his or mine, to rid the garden of some of the tomatoes that are starting to overrun it.

Tomatoes so big we need to use two hands to carry them.

A colander, filled to overflowing with tiny cherry tomatoes.

He scolds me when I neglect to pull the stems off, telling me I "need to peel them", as he reaches in and removes the offending tops himself.

We throw the bad ones to the squirrels.

The rest we bring inside, washing them, sneaking a few into our mouths for a snack.

Mixing them with olive oil and fresh basil for lunch.

Hardly making a dent in our harvest.

Savoring the too-quick summer.

xo

I Walk, Er, Swim The Line

The pool at the Cal Neva Resort in Lake Tahoe is pretty much like any other pool at any other resort.

It has water, room to swim, a lovely space to lounge in the sun surrounding it.

But it does have one little thing that sets it light years apart from other pools at other resorts:

the California/Nevada state line runs right down the middle.

Talk about making a splash.

xo

Ice Ice Baby

It is hot here.

So very, very hot.

In an endless quest to find delicious and refreshing ways to stay cool,

last week I found myself sprawled across a fan-blown chair, trolling around Pinterest,

looking to find just that sort of relief

(the delicious and refreshing sort).

I came across this recipe for Meyer lemon sorbet, and decided to give it a whirl with the non-Meyer lemons sitting in a bowl on the kitchen counter.

And while staring, transfixed by the four simple ingredients spinning around and around inside the ice cream maker, I got the idea to add in a fifth:

vodka.

Brilliant.

Cool.

Delicious.

Refreshing.

How about you? What are your secrets for beating the heat when the mercury goes up to Oh My God degrees?

It's blistering out there, folks. Stay cool.

xo

Happy Weekend

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I think it's fair to say that most of us view this first weekend in September as the end of the summer. The kids

are going back to school. Boots and scarves are making their way onto shop shelves. Vacations are now memories, and old routines are once again being fallen into.

Indeed, we here in the States bid adieu to the long summer days with a long weekend. A long weekend that is eagerly anticipated amongst my friends and family, for that final long summer weekend is Pork Fest Weekend. And what is Pork Fest, you ask? Why, it's just that: a celebration of all things pork. It is the brainchild of my brother-in-law and his neighbor, who started this humble ode to the pig a few years ago, with three grills and a deep-fryer. The rules are pretty basic, in that to gain entry to this most revered of festivals, you must bring food. And that food must contain, in some form, pork (I'm bringing these, and something along the lines of this, but with panchetta added. And, of course, a bottle of bacon vodka, for bloody marys.). You might also slide by with a case or so of good beer ;)

Preparations start months in advance, when my brother in law starts brewing a batch of beer especially for the occasion. As Pork Fest Sunday draws near, bacon begins piling up in freezers. Pork is priced and pounced upon when a good sale is found. The day before, the smell of bacon fills the air for miles around. Early, ever so very early on the actual day, the smoker is started. Pulled pork starts, well, pulling. The deep fryer is turned on, hot oil ready and waiting. And all in anticipation of an entire day, and well into the night , spent enjoying pork.

It is eaten in rice and beans, in empenadas and collard greens. It is candied, and tucked delightfully into an apple tart. It is devoured as bacon, wrapped around a chunk of mac and cheese and deep fried. It is a pleasant surprise in cookies and cupcakes and whoopie pies. It is smoky in cocktails, and wrapped around melon. It is consumed in such varied and abundant forms, that it needs to be held on a long weekend. You simply cannot begin the week in a pork coma! Monday is spent lazily, weighed down, blissfully, with a pork hangover. Preferably with Vogue's September issue and the new Anthology magazine. It is the perfect see-off to summer.

How about you, Dear Readers? Do you have any special plans or traditions for the weekend?

Enjoy it, and make it last, whatever you do.

xo

Darkness On The Edge Of Town

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My Dear Readers. I went into this week with plans.Plans for things that I wanted to share with you.Lovely things. But, as the days came and went, so did the plans. A lovely thing, one that I had planned to share with you, just didn't seem to fit the mood of the day. A lovely thing sat, waiting to be shared, but I couldn't seem to find the right words.

Late-ish last night, I sat on my bed, listening to a moderate rain fall. As I was listening to the rain, I was preparing a post full of lovely things that I had planned to share with you today. And as that moderate rain fell, and I gathered together my lovely things, very quietly, with no lightning strikes or thunderbolts of hoopla whatsoever, the power went out.

The power went out, taking with it the lights and the tv and the internet. And all of the lovely things I had planned to share with you today.

The power went, leaving me with darkness. And stillness. And quiet.
There were no air conditioners rattling in windows. No tvs making their tv noises. No machines running and whirring and buzzing. No neighbors awake to break the quiet.
Just the moderately falling rain, and an occasional distant rumbling of thunder.
Once or twice, very slowly, a train went by at the end of the street, whistle blowing to warn the darkness that it was coming.
I fell asleep listening to the whistle, and dreamed of far off lands.
And it was lovely. So lovely that I just had to share it with you.
xo

Happy Weekend

Emmylou Harris

A sultry hello and welcome to the weekend, Dear Readers.

I'm sure you've heard (and are quite possibly experiencing) that it's hot. Triple digit hot.

The kind of hot that, when walked into from an air conditioned interior, grabs you and shakes you and has you saying, "So. This is what it feels like to be a firecracker."

The kind of hot that has you remembering the sleepovers of your thirteen year old self, when nothing could possibly have been more mortifying than having someone freeze your bra. Now you're thinking it sounds like a brilliant idea.

The kind of hot in which you would (or perhaps should) definitely think twice about attending an outdoor, three-day music festival. But not me. I thought once. I've been going since year one, and tradition is tradition.

Hot hot heat or not.

Now, you're probably all like "But wait- you hate heat!" Which I do.

So here's my plan: daytime performances, you know, the ones that take place under a blazing sun, those will be enjoyed over the radio, from the comfort of an air conditioned home or a pool. That's not to say I wouldn't really like to experience some of those in person, but, you know.

Mercifully, the big guns have all been saved to be enjoyed under cover of night. Which is when I will venture out, dressed in shorts and carrying a cooler filled with frozen water. Eighty five degrees at nine pm is certainly acceptable if I get to see Emmylou Harris!

How about you, Dear Readers? How are you spending this melty weekend? And how do you stay cool?

Be safe and hydrated, my friends!

xo

Happy Weekend



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Happy Fourth of July Weekend, Dear Readers!

Wishing you three (or four, if you're one of the lucky ones!) whole days

of family, friends, cocktails and sparklers.

Be happy and be safe.

See you Tuesday!

xo

Twisting By The Pool

Hello, lovelies!

With the big holiday weekend coming up (at least for those of us in the states!), and so many of us heading pool- and ocean-side, I thought it was a fine time to look at some of the gorgeous swimwear making waves on Etsy.



1.PLHI  2.Alexandra Grecco   3.This Vintage Thing

1.Kai Ulu Swimwear  2. Molly B Bikinis  3.Ani Bikinis

Aren't they all so lovely?

Now go forth, grab your sunscreen, and make a splash this weekend!

xo









Happy Weekend!



{Esther Williams}



It's the weekend, Dear Readers! The end of another busy week. A week spent slowly catching up and branching out. A week filled with sweet moments spent with my two favorite little guys.

A week that ushered in a new season, and a week of pool-filled afternoons spent escaping the new season's heat.

A week whose end gives way to a possibility-filled weekend with nothing much planned. What does your weekend hold in store, Dear Readers?

Whatever you do with it, I hope you enjoy it!

xo

Summertime, And The Living Is Easy

Hello, Dear Readers! Summer came today! And it has clearly made its point that it wants to be enjoyed- it took me three attempts to type this without the computer freezing up on me. Point taken!

I will be the first to admit, summer is not my favorite season. Something about the heat and the humidity and the bugs (ahh, East Coast living!). But that's not to say that it doesn't hold plenty of treasures to look forward to.

So, before this longest day of the year draws to a close, I thought I'd share with you a few of my favorite of those summertime treats.

First off, there are activities that require you to wear a bathing suit, like pool parties, sunbathing, slip and slides, and trips to the ocean. (Note- it's not the wearing of a bathing suit that I enjoy, but the activities for which they are required. Just to be clear!)

 Summertime also tends to make cocktails seem even more enjoyable than they already are.

Summer is also a fine time to steak out a spot between a couple of shady trees, climb in a hammock, and spend a day or so with the stack of books you've been meaning to get around to reading.

And finally, summer is definitely the most desirable season for al fresco dining. I mean, who doesn't love having food served to them while sitting outside on a city street, watching all of the world's comings and goings pass them by?

Of course, there are other small pleasures, like sleeping and driving with the windows open,

being able to wear shoes that show off your pedicure,

or better yet, foregoing shoes all together.

It's these little things that I enjoy most about the summer.

What about you, Dear Readers? What is your favorite part of the summer?

My Goodness, My Guinness!

Guys, it's hot. Seriously hot. 100 degrees hot. And it's going to stay that hot until the weekend, when we should be back into the upper 80's. Which will be nice.

And since it's so hot, I figured, what better time to talk about ice cream? Specifically, the Guinness ice cream I made over the weekend for my dad's birthday.

And since we're talking about the Guinness ice cream, might as well talk about the Guinness cupcakes, too.

But it's hot. Too hot to talk. So it's like this:

Last Saturday night, I put on The Kinks really loud, opened a can of Guinness, used some to make ice cream, some to make cupcakes, and drank the rest.

All in all, a good night.

I improvised a toffee frosting by chopping up a few Heath bars.
This was a very good idea.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go see if I can round up a bit of that ice cream and drag it to my spot under the ceiling fan.

xo

Heat Wave

Last week, we got walloped with a heatwave. It was awful. About all I could manage to do was lay on the floor, arms and legs as far from my body as I could muster the energy to move them. Every now and then, I would drag myself into the kitchen and chug water straight from the pitcher in the refrigerator. I was unprepared for this heatwave, and I had to do something horrible- I had to put on shorts. My legs were not made for shorts- all skinny and big-kneed and pale. They are much more suited to sundresses. Light, airy, flowy sundresses. I have these, packed away in abundance in the attic, which is like an oven on the best of days. No way was I going up there.

But today, as we bid adieu once again to seasonable temperatures and head unwillingly back into the uppermost nineties (noooooo!!!!), I will be digging those sundresses out. And perhaps hunting for a few more. Like these:

All dresses from Anthropologie

Now. If only I could find a place like this to hide away from the heat, I'd be all set:

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Stay cool, Dear Readers.

xo

Midnight In Paris

Two things first:

One- If I could travel back to any point in time, it would be Paris in the 1920's. I mean, Picasso! Hemingway! Fitzgerald! Chanel! Yes yes, this is definitely the point in time towards which I would point the DeLorean.

Two- I have been loving the Europe-set Woody Allen movies of late (Match Point, Vicky Cristina Barcelona).

So, what happens when these two combine? I'm not sure, but I'm really looking forward to finding out.

What about you, Dear Readers? What movies are you looking forward to this summer?