For so many of y’all that read this blog, you’re full on, headlong, neck deep into Summer … glorious, juicy, hot Summer.
But here at Hillhouse, we’ve just said farewell to the daffodils, and there are still a few, tiny patches of snow clinging to the north sides of the gullies. The yard is filled with dandelions and young things.
But Summer is slowly, shyly creeping in. I came home Friday to find that Honeydew had mowed the lawn for the first time, and placed the lawn furniture out around the fire pit. Have I mentioned how much I love him? Not because I didn’t want to do those things – I actually prefer to mow the lawn – but because he was trying to make Summer come earlier than it wants to, if only in my mind. Though I’ve lived in Montana for the better part ten years, I don’t know that I’ll ever get used to summer being afraid to take June by the hand, and blossom.
Honeydew tilled up the garden, preparing the soil for the lettuce, carrots, peppers, potatoes, and onions we will soon plant. Things that can grow in just sixty days.
Today, I scrubbed the hot tub, pressure washed the patio, and deep cleaned the house. The light is finally bright enough to highlight the dust coating the elk head in our den, the dog hair in the corners of the kitchen, the crumbs in the cabinets. Let’s just say that the Shop Vac and I got in some quality time together. Roy and Buck didn’t help, but spent most of the day sunbathing, despite the incessant wind, in front of the garage. Honeydew was out beekeeping.
But when he came home, we continued our charade of “Summer,” and pulled on our fleeces against the wind to grill on the sparkling patio.
Mmmmm. Chicken breasts marinated in barbeque sauce, asparagus kissed with olive oil, salt, and pepper, then bunched with bacon.
And it tasted even better than it looked – Honeydew is a grill master! I’m enjoying faking Summer with him. But so, so ready for the real thing.
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