the first of many

farmers & frittatas

Caroline and I went to the farmers market on Sunday. I had come with ten dollars in my hand and one thing on my mind, raspberries, and that's just what we got. Four pints of succulent berries that literally fell apart in my mouth, their perfume lasting for ages on my breath! We've put/hidden them out in the refrigerator in the garage so that we can savor them for ourselves without being thoughtlessly popped by the handful by Dad or Lucas.

For dinner tonight I made my family Giada De Laurentiis' chicken and orzo frittata. It was really, really good. And pretty! But of course, what wouldn't taste good when it has ricotta and creme fraiche in it. Only change I made was substituting the parsley (which I sort of think is really bleh) for fragrant fresh basil. There was one small slice left in the whole huge baking dish, and it was gone by the time I got up this morning. A testament to its tastiness.

All was well.

turquoise.

my favorite color.

practically perfect in every way

It's days like yesterday when the sky is perpetually somber and rainfall is imminent that I can imagine myself settled in a lovely little cottage in the English countryside. As the rain beat against my windows I would light the fireplace and brew a strong cup of Lady Grey, then settle into an overstuffed chair and devour the pages of my book. Once the rain let up I'd slip on my yellow wellies and olive tweed jacket and usher my dogs though the masses of lavender in my garden. They would run on ahead of me through the vibrant green expanse, dotted white with grazing sheep and their little lambs. Simplicity at its finest.

Exhilarating

 

I have a habit of throwing up the window and sticking my head out with the first audible pitter-patter of rain. I close my eyes and breathe deep that indescribable divine aroma that hangs heavily in the air as the rain first soaks into the earth. It's exhilarating. I sit here now with all three of my bedroom windows open, listening to the rainfall. On the windowsills, the trees, the street. But it wasn't long ago that I was standing on my patio, face and arms raised to the sky, letting myself be momentarily overcome by the senses. Shortly thereafter my sister joined me in recreating Liesl Von Trapp's joyous "Wheeeeee!" after she kisses Rolfe in the gazebo. It may be summer, but I ungrudgingly welcome this refreshment. 

Nouveau Mexique

My grandma grew up in Albuquerque. These photos are from 1952, her senior year of high school. I wish these styles were still commonplace sixty years later. And I desperately want a pair of saddle shoes like the ones she is wearing in this last photo where Grandma is standing next to her older brother Dusty.

Familj

Every summer is our Annual Swedish Familj Picknick at Kayak Point. We celebrate our Swedish heritage by proudly flying the flag and maintaining the book filled with century-old photographs, documents and family trees. But mostly we catch up on life and eat. Barbecue, fresh crab caught that morning, smoked salmon and sharp cheese, refreshing salads, berries, dad's famous carrot cake, strawberry rhubarb crisp, pie. Man oh man are we spoiled!

evenings

I sit here resisting the urge to itch my sunburned stomach, knowing it will only make it that much worse. Although, getting to lay out in my green polka dot bikini with my new read Suite Francaise in hand and San Pellegrino with a hit of lemon and fresh mint on a table next to me was undoubtedly worth my current discomfort. 

With temperatures in the high 70s to low 80s these past few days, light and refreshing dinners have been in order. Last night I made spaghetti with pea pesto. Tonight was lemony shrimp salad with couscous. Making dinner for my family two nights in a row? Yeah, you heard right. Yummy shrimp, airy couscous,  sugar snap peas, cherry tomatoes, green onion, and bright citrus flavor from the lemon and fresh basil all made for a lovely summery meal. 

Weather-permitting, Caroline and I have been taking Chynna for a walk every night after dinner, always in time to catch the sun setting over the islands and the Olympics. Often we sit for a few minutes to just take it all in. I especially enjoy breathing deep the scent of trees, ocean, and train tracks while watching the silhouettes of sailboats as they dock at the marina or fade into the horizon. It's peaceful and comforting, and it's home.