It was one of those moments I'll remember for the rest of my life: the sun warm on my face, the sound of the wind moving through leaves in the lemon trees around us, and the sweet taste of perfect strawberries exploding in my mouth.
Well, it looks like the dogwoods are coming back, inch by inch. Unfortunately, not enough to block the neighbor's air conditioner from the dining room window.
Sigh. Maybe next year.
-Watching from far above, up on the bluff, as my husband and his two brothers ran buck naked, down 156 steps, onto the beach and into 57 degree water as the sun set behind the lake. The three brothers were preceded by three naked toddlers, who wanted to emulate their dads. The boys lost a bet to their dad on the golf course and we were all secretly grateful-- no one wanted to see Grandpa naked.
-Seeing respectfully firsthand just how hard it is to be a fulltime Mom (or Dad), and feeling something like the joyful exuberance a parent must feel as I played with, read to, and told stories to my nieces and nephews. The the look of wide-eyed wonder in their faces was priceless.
Oh how I love buttercream.
A great time was had by all.
It was a hot Sunday afternoon in late May this year.
I had just laid down for a long nap in our bedroom, which is off the back of the house. Earlier in the day, with a lump in my throat, I had asked S if he would cut down a year-old silver maple tree that was growing just behind the garage. The poor tree struggled for life all through the drought last summer and I had watered it by hand daily; but this year we discovered it was the type that dropped bucketful's of those "helicopters" all over the yard. The maple had to go.
As I drifted slowly off to sleep, I heard the soothing sounds of S puttering in the yard.
Two hours later, I woke with a start, listening carefully to a quiet rustling right under our bedroom window.
"What in the world could THAT be?" I thought to myself. The maple was on the other side of the house from our bedroom and I couldn't imagine what S was working on beneath our window.
I swung my legs out of bed and poked my head out the window; S was standing shirtless in the backyard, perspiring and yard-gloved with dirty sneakers. He beamed up at me.
"Hi honey! I cut down the maple tree!" He shouted up at me. "And I cut down the yucky bushes."
"The yucky bushes? What do you mean, 'the yucky bushes'?" My heart started to beat rapidly as I looked down at him in all his sweaty glory.
I ran out of the room, down the stairs, and out the back door of our house to where S was standing, smiling broadly.
"Wait, what bushes did you cut down, dear?" I asked, looking around frantically.
He took me by the hand and led me over to the wooden fence that stretches along the west side of our house. "Those bushes, they were yucky bushes!"
As I looked in utter horror at the desecration of five, FIVE, beautiful, mature, viburnums that used to grow happily all along our ugly, brown fence, my fingernails cut into my palms as I curled my hands into tight fists and began to shake. They would turn a breathtaking fiery orange in the fall, and bore bright red berries I'd include in flower arrangements the past summer.
"Oh honey, NO. No no no no no no NO NO NO NO. NO!" I gasped. "What in the world made you think they were yucky?"
He shrugged. "I dunno, they just were. I cut down the ones outside the dining room too."
In a panic I turned around and ran to the remains of the two, 15 foot high, gorgeous dogwoods that were planted outside our dining room windows. They were gone. Cut back to the ground.
I sank to my knees and wept. Now, just so you understand, we do not have children. We do not have a dog. We do not have pets of any kind, not even a fish. And I? I am a very tenderhearted person, eager to pour loving care into any of the formerly mentioned creatures. But, because we both work full time right now, no pets. Hence:
My YARD is my pet.
Last summer through the drought, I had watered these bushes hours and hours, moving the trickling hose day after day, carefully keeping the dogwoods alive and well. We would sit in the dining room eating dinner and I would think to myself, "Thank goodness for those bushes, they were planted perfectly to block the view of our neighbor's house and air conditioner."
Unfortunately, for me and for the bushes, I never said any of this ALOUD to my dear husband.
And now, they were gone. All gone.
I'll spare you the details of all that was said and done, but suffice to say, after a trip to Home Depot that evening where S saw how much two foot tall dogwoods and viburnums cost, there are now 25 charming little ivy plants growing happily along the fence. Planted and watered by S.
And the dogwoods? Two and a half months later, they're growing back slowly. Maybe five years from now they'll cover that ugly air conditioner again.
I've hidden the hedge trimmers. And the shears. For good.
What IS this?!? A fat, deformed zucchini? A pumpkin, I hope...
3. Sneak over to the prepared foods section, where the head chef (who was formerly the sous chef at Charlie Trotter's) offers selections like Maryland blue crab cakes, sweet corn and pepper salad, macadamia nut encrusted halibut, chipotle bbq shrimp on skewers, and so much more. Bat your eyes and ask nicely for a taste. Repeat, four or five times.
4. Now for my favorite part: The Bakery. Step up to the large section surrounded by tempting displays of freshly made double baked almond crossiants, 20 types of daily made breads (everything from true French baguettes to Olive Ciabatta, Challah, and Walnut Sourdough), apple turnovers...wait, I'll just drop the list in:
Croissant- Almond, Chocolate, Westphalian & Comte, Maple Pecan Danish, Orange Cream Danish, Key Lime & Baker's Cheese Danish, Brioche Tart, Cinnamon SwirlSticky Bun, Apple Turnover, Scone-Ginger, Currant, Muffin-Blueberry, Angel Food, Cranberry Walnut, Pumpkin-Creamed Cheese, Crème Fraiche Coffee Cake, Campground Crumb Cake, Biscotti-Pratesi, Chocolate-Fennel, Cookies-Chocolate Chip & Pecan Cookies, Oatmeal Raisin Cookies, Breton Sugar Cookies, Peanut Butter Shortbread Cookies, Apricot Rugelach, Vanilla Poundcake, Almond Poppyseed Poundcake, Gingerbread, Bittersweet Brownies, Creamed Cheese Brownies, Pie-Browned Butter Pecan, Apple, Buttermilk Chess, Flourless Chocolate Cake with Bittersweet Ganache, Layer cake-Devil's Food, Butter, Coconut Cream, Carrot, Red Velvets, Sachertorte, Opera, Buche de Noel, Dark Chocolate Pecan Tart, Key Lime Tart with Italian Meringue, Sour Cream Apple Tart, Milk Chocolate Caramel Tart, Fresh Berry Tart, Baked Fruit Tart with Frangipane, Bread Pudding Chocolate, BrutCrème, and Creme Brûlée.
Yep. That's about all of them I think.
Go ahead, buy yourself one. My personal favorites are the white chocolate chunk cherry cookies and the almond croissants. Save it for later, you'll need it.
5. Next, head over to the meat and fish counters, where four butchers and fishmongers prepare dry-aged prime cuts of beef, make brats and sausages from scratch, marinate Bell and Evans chickens, and prepare wasabi lobster salad and tuna burgers. They are always happy and sometimes, if you're really quiet, you can catch one singing to himself in the back as he de-bones a fish.
Craving a hearty rabbit dish in red wine sauce? You'll find the bunnies here. Quail, buffalo and venison loin too.
6. If meat doesn't do it for you, walk down to the cheese counter, stopping to taste an olive oil (or nine) at the gigantic gleaming wall of oil from all over the world. You'll be able to smell the cheese from six feet away.
I'm not a cheese girl, so you won't find me waxing poetic about it, but rest assured that it's awesome. Chue Flada, Portuguese cheese with thistle rennet, raisin and brandy coated Regal de Bourgogne, real Parmigiano Reggiano and Capriole Goat Cheese are just a few.
Taste as much as you want, the little wedges just keep coming from the friendly Frenchman with the bad teeth behind the counter.
7. By now, you've worked up a thirst, and most probably, a healthy appetite. Head past the cheeses, hang a left and walk into the lively cafe. Gaze up at the tempting menu and decide what you want. Perhaps a foamy caramel latte in their perfect sized mugs, or hearty Black Angus Steak Frites for those looking for a little more. Although, it is only 9:30 on a Saturday morning, so maybe you just want a stack of Stonewall Kitchen buttermilk pancakes with real Vermont syrup, or huevos rancheros with their addictive red chipotle sauce. Not an easy choice.
