19 June 2008

and the days just fly by*

Let's talk about how it's almost solstice, shall we? Does anyone want to explain to me how that's happened? Because I'm just not sure. Seriously. I said to Jared a couple of days before he left that I had a feeling June was just going to fly by. Well, it has (in some ways). Since I don't have my digital camera, I've been relying heavily on film photos for ye old blog here. Luckily, I've got lots of them. But it's always interesting to see what you get back when you pick up the film. Even if you shot the roll in just a few days and you get it developed and pick it up right away, there's still a sense of looking at that photo and remembering when you took it. And even it it was just days earlier, it seems to feel much farther back in the past. There's something quite magical about this film, there is. Like these photos.

It was just under one month ago that I wrote about my newfound love for morels. Literally, within two weeks of our mouthwatering discovery, they had disappeared from the markets. And now, it feels like years ago that I was sauteeing them slowly in some margarine and rationing them out on fresh toast. A month ago, spring felt like some unchartered territory with a new discovery around each and every green corner. And now, summer is here. I think it got dangerously close to 90 degrees today and I'll be bringing the fans up from the basement this weekend.

I know after all that complaining about how spring would never come and why is it still snowing, I'll be dying from the heat pretty soon. It's amazing how quickly that changes. As much as I love Minnesota, and generally don't mind the weather here, what I would change (if someone would ever be so kind as to put me in charge of this) would be how short spring and fall are. It just goes straight from one extreme to the other, with little time to adjust. So right now, before it gets to unbearably hot, I'm trying to cherish the little moments. The first harvests, the warm-but not hot-nights, and the ever so slowly browning of my arms and legs as I travel through this city on two wheels. What are you cherishing about the season right now?

PS: I know that this space has lost all trace of craftiness right now and I know excuses are lame, but honestly the lack of digital camera has impeded me from documenting some of my craftiness of late. And there has been some. So please be patient, there is definitely some craftiness happening behind the scenes here and I promise to share it just as soon as I can document it decently. Until then, film it is!

This was a poem I made with the magnetic poetry we had on the fridge at my old house in vermont. I've always loved it. I think I actually have a photo of it on the fridge, hmm, must dig that out...


  1. Oh ruminate on all that is beautiful, Julia. Those morels we spotted while camping were sweet; I should have plucked them up and sauteed them on the camp stove. Ah well, memories.

    More cooking here too: mint syrup, basil pasta, etc., and knitting. I thought I would run out of things to ruminate about myself, once the school year ended, but I suppose I rarely discussed teaching any more anyway.

    Happy near-solstice!

  2. growing your own food is crafty :)