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| Kick-off your gluten-free summer with a blueberry crumble-crisp. |
Blueberry Love
Summer is not officially here until the eve of June 20th- the longest day of the calendar year. But why wait to share one of my quintessential Midsummer recipes? The kindest season is far too brief. As the Bard of Avon once penned, summer's lease hath all too short a date. So who am I to hold back and play hard-to-get, to deny you even one day of partaking in this (rather modest) indulgence?
I believe in the here and now more than the promise of ever-after.
Not that ever-after does not hold its enduring charms. The swath we name eternity is threaded through and through with everyday blinks as brief as a silk worm's life. Which, as it turns out, is perilously close to a single, fleeting summer.
In my view, if I am honest with myself and paying attention, eternity can be found inside a June. Within a child's hand clasp. Echoed in a tea cup. All that I long for, wish for, dream of, has already happened, this I know. In some far off starlit part of me that remains forever untouchable and true, eternity is happening now, and breathes within the tiny beating bud of even my fears, and pain. It knows no boundaries, or Gregorian demarcation. It is patient. And full of music.
I see it flicker in my sons' eyes.
This gift of time.
And the moment I spot it, it is already gone, light years away, clean and immaculate.
Read more + get the recipe >>
|
| Kick-off your gluten-free summer with a blueberry crumble-crisp. |
Blueberry Love
Summer is not officially here until the eve of June 20th- the longest day of the calendar year. But why wait to share one of my quintessential Midsummer recipes? The kindest season is far too brief. As the Bard of Avon once penned, summer's lease hath all too short a date. So who am I to hold back and play hard-to-get, to deny you even one day of partaking in this (rather modest) indulgence?
I believe in the here and now more than the promise of ever-after.
Not that ever-after does not hold its enduring charms. The swath we name eternity is threaded through and through with everyday blinks as brief as a silk worm's life. Which, as it turns out, is perilously close to a single, fleeting summer.
In my view, if I am honest with myself and paying attention, eternity can be found inside a June. Within a child's hand clasp. Echoed in a tea cup. All that I long for, wish for, dream of, has already happened, this I know. In some far off starlit part of me that remains forever untouchable and true, eternity is happening now, and breathes within the tiny beating bud of even my fears, and pain. It knows no boundaries, or Gregorian demarcation. It is patient. And full of music.
I see it flicker in my sons' eyes.
This gift of time.
And the moment I spot it, it is already gone, light years away, clean and immaculate.
Read more + get the recipe >>
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