Getting dressed to go to town posed quite a dilemma, given the horrible heat. Since part of my reason for going related to diocesan business, I asked myself, "What would Jesus wear? On a hot summer day?" And I put on a dress of light unbleached linen and a pair of brown leather sandals, and called it an outfit.
After my meeting with the Bishop, I ran some errands, finishing up at the market. I had a strange list, and it wasn't one I could entrust to my man. It was a deeply personal quest.
In past couple of weeks, I've been nostalgic for my youthful summers and the seashore. Fresh seafood for dinner. Key lime pie for dessert. So I've played with recipes and ingredients to re-create the perfect key lime pie of my youth. The latest attempt was admirable, but I believe the next one will be superlative.
In another stab at regaining my lost childhood, I bought a ton of raspberry jello. I haven't made jello, much less eaten any, for yonks. But my appetite flees in hot weather so it seemed the right thing to do. The Chap isn't so keen, so I can eat it all!
Naturally, once I'd stocked up, we had a merciful break in the weather. By the time I returned to the Lodge, the rain had come, the temperature dropped, and last night I was actually feeling cold, a word absent from my vocabulary for weeks.
Right now, in the middle of the day, it's 76 degrees. That's 20 degrees better than it was downtown at this time yesterday!
Tonight we've got a dinner party at the historic home down the road...a casual pot luck affair. Earlier this week, in the midst of the inferno, I volunteered to do salads so I wouldn't have to heat up my kitchen. So later I'll be shredding romaine and parmesan for the Caesar salad. And grating a lot of carrots for the wonderful peanutty carrot salad my dear from from England taught me to make on a hot summer day long ago.
While eating my cool and wiggly lunch...
...I realised I have absolutely no idea what we're doing this weekend. Except for seeing the balloon rally fireworks tomorrow night. Here's hoping a balloon sails right past our lake in the afternoon, like last year.
And by saying that, maybe I've jinxed our chances. Hope not!
Rose of the Day.
Clotilde Soupert, Clothilde Soupert. I couldn't remember what this one was called. I had to drag out my file with 12 years of purchase receipts for 70+ rose bushes to work it out. And I succeeded.
Clotilde, developed in Luxembourg in 1890, is a sweet little polyantha who doesn't mind early morning and late afternoon shade. She's small but reliable, with an old-fashioned fullness, and lots of petals. In hot weather she looks all white, but in cooler weather the blossoms have a faintly pink hue.
The photo shows her fully opened up. I don't have one of the earlier cup-like blossom that comes before.
She's a bit like Souvenir de Malmaison, which I adore and must replace, as my old veteran didn't survive last winter.
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