My advice to you is not to inquire why or whither, but just enjoy your ice cream while it is on your plate.
I surrender. The air conditioner is going on today. As much as I appreciate fresh air and the laid back, nostalgic feeling that open doors and windows evokes, too much heat has the potential to make Linda a testy girl—and I’ve got neither time nor patience for that.
I’m going to the garden early, while it’s still relatively cool, to harvest green beans, kale, and Swiss chard—then will busy myself getting it all washed , blanched, and tucked away in the freezer along with another couple of trays of cherries.
Then, an afternoon spent at the park and the beach seems in order. We’ll return, hot and tired, to an air-conditioned home, a prepared cold supper, and ice cream. I wonder: is it possible to get sick of ice cream?
# # #
Simple happy Camp G and G summer.
Bowls of blueberries.
Sitting on the deck eating cherries and chatting.
Mastermind, Yahtzee, Trouble, and Life.
Hugs, even when it’s almost too hot for them. (It’s never too hot for them.)
Ice cream and more ice cream.