The Sweetness of Summer

This summer I have felt too busy to blog. Now I know my feeling of something missing is coming from being too busy not to blog. Because I love to write, take photographs, create and share, most of all share, I have resolve. Resolve to put myself out there, doing what I do on a daily basis and share it all. So nice to see you, please come in.

My daughter-in-law and I tackled ten pounds of peaches today in the first step of peach jam. I think above all others jams peach honors summer and all the sunshiny glory summer days have to offer. We are following the same book, Mes Confitures by Christine Ferber that inspired me last summer. However this summer I have been doing plainer jams, inviting no co-stars like vanilla, saffron or Grand Marnier to steal the show. Peaches, sugar and lemon juice are enough.
Ms. Ferber prepares jam in a two day process, the first day the ingredients are combined and brought to a simmer. The next day, the fruit is cooked until it reaches 221 degrees and will hold a set. I have perfected the art of recognizing the set sans the thermometer! Mais Oui!! I dribble a little of the hot, hot, hot jam juice on the marble counter, and if, when I run my finger through it, a trail, like a swimmer in a lake is left behind I know it's time is now.

Nothing beats a lazy summer day with one project to make one feel fruitful. There have been lots of days like that around here and lots of jam packed action ones I'd like to share as well. So many sweet days.
There was an abundance of black raspberries to be picked along the path to the beach.

Dervish whirling to be done.

Cookies to be organized.

Cold suppers to be languidly consumed.
Farmer's Market bounty to be inspired by.

Wedding tea to be thoughtfully chosen by the bride to be.

The anticipation of things to come.

Milliner's netting with endless possibilities of delight...that is, if you are a bride or her mother.

Summer mornings to be savored.

The evening chirp of the crickets has replaced the screeching of the cicadas, and the hostas are blooming alongside the impatiens. The first butternut squash is on my windowsill and I turn my thoughts to fall. Having walked both babies in their carriages through crispy leaves, and for eons had someone starting one school or another, fall, for me, holds great promise and the sweetest memories.