Summer... the screech of the opening and the slam, crack of the screened door hitting the frame. I love it! Reminiscent of summers in Bowen and Peoria when the air was hot and humid with not a chance or possibility of air conditioning. The screened door was the air conditioner!
There is nothing that says summer more to our family than mornings, afternoons, and evenings on the screened porch. Dinner under the slowly undulating ceiling fan. Cicadas crackling and the sounds of animals, large and small, moving about in the woods behind. We have cardinals and squirrels, and deer graze on hosta and Gerber daisies. Our former house had so many rabbits living under the porch that the snow around the perimeter looked like a litter box!
The forsythia and daffodils of early spring, and the overwhelming nostalgic scent of lilacs in the late spring, the scented herb garden in the summer--mint and basil and thyme. Jacob's Ladders blooming violet just beyond the screens joining the other purples of late summer--the herbs go to bloom and then seed, the rubbery mother-in-laws tongue flowers magenta. The rock garden with mother of thyme crawling over the flagstone--brave volunteer chives and reseeding annuals show up in nooks and crannies. The lavender and hydrangeas never survive for a second year, but asparagus and rhubarb thrive. Tomatoes deteriorate from the bottom before they ripen, but onions grow large and sweet.
The kids come home with their families and we make tomato bread focaccias to eat with red pepper olive oil and young Gruyere, roasted red peppers with goat cheese, toasted pine nuts, basil in salads or on pasta, grilled chicken and steak, corn-on-the cob in August, Grandpa's tomatoes, and zucchini casseroles--ratatouille or rice. We drink iced tea brewed in the sun or in our dedicated coffee maker, wine for some and Czech beer if we can get it. Dessert might be carrot cake or chocolate truffle cheesecake with white chocolate-espresso sauce; monster cookies or Great Aunt Roxie's crispy oatmeal with white raisins; shortbread or molasses cookies--we love our desserts and know that homemade is worth the effort.
The little ones chase lightening bugs until bath time and then give squishy, soapy smelling, damp hugs as they head for bedtime books, and the sun settles behind Dufield Pond and casts it's rosy glow over a day well spent with bright hope for tomorrows filled with horses, ponies, goats, the beach or chlorine-soaked pool, soft custard ice cream, the Cubs winning two; and Little League, softball, and soccer games to be played.
Life is good on the screened porch in the summer. An investment that has yielded rich experience and cherished memories--those past and those yet to be written.
