Succession
Our pot of tomatoes on the deck
is showing off early thanks to the heat.
One tomato was perfectly ripe when we
came back from a few days in the country.
Dragging in laundry to wash, and
the additional bags of paraphernalia you gather on even short stays out of town, we were
predisposed to an easy supper as the vacation clothing went directly to the
washer.
Maybe it was the tomato, noticed
when we first got home, that made us think of ordering in pizza.
The tomato looked too pretty
on the vine to pick when first exclaimed over. Then we forgot about it in the throes of unpacking.
We ate the pizza unadorned
except for the cheese and bacon toppings with which it arrived.
The tomato, fixed with some
basil, could have been an excellent pizza garnish. Instead the juicy red globe gained some extra
minutes in the sun.
It was eaten later with a
shake of salt. Tomatoes taste best fresh and on the spot.
We sweltered the whole time we
were away. One assumes it’ll be cooler leaving behind the asphalt and diesel
fumes of the city. That's not always so.
The hot air dome is a tight cap over the
Midwest. Whether it's skyscrapers or silos out your back door broiling temperatures this month are pretty much the case.
Most of us can deal with the
heat. It’s harder with sticky hot. If you’re outside any length of time you’re
dripping wet. Dew points are the points of reference picking away at our summer enthusiasm.
We aren’t letting the
inconvenience of major perspiration outbreaks get in the way of our planned
activities. Summer is over too soon to get reliant on central air and stale TV
reruns.
It feels good to be on the move outside
even in dew point country. We go slower, find shade and drink plenty of water.
This was our strategy at a recent
outdoor art festival, which has the good fortune to be set along one of our
cool flowing Minnesota rivers.
The white tents arranged under
the trees gave the aspect of a medieval fair. It looked jaunty as viewed on
approach.
I expected to hear the clank of armor or see the flowing gowns of fair
ladies of the castle with wide baskets strolling through the archaic lanes.
It was only a dream, however. The
brisk business of buying and selling materialized with the opening of the admission
gate.
My method with any outdoor emporium
is to cover the grounds swiftly, get a feel for what’s there and zero in on
what attracts me. Familiarity with the general layout helps me scope out my interests and saves time with the rest.
Many depend on the map handouts for orientation.
For me nothing takes the place of scouting with your own set of eyes.
Eventually the handout is referred to but it's held in reserve as used by me.
An abundance of merchandise with an up North theme was immediately noted. Possibly the pieces stand out
because they fit so well with the distinctly bucolic setting.
If you don’t own a cabin or lake
home these items make you want to acquire lakeshore property pronto.
It’s hard
to resist the breezy banners, cute plaques, carvings, Man Cave objects, stained
glass suncatchers, wind chimes and assortment of wooden furniture from tiny
benches on up.
They’re so suited for lake décor you
can almost hear the waves as you walk by. You can justify the cabin purchase on this basis
alone. The artsy choices call for a relaxed second home they can
spiff up.
You’re struck by the industry behind all these wares. You picture the studios or workshops or simple kitchen
tables where these examples of skill and labors of love are conceived, prepared, completed
and packed to bring.
Displays of handcrafted jewelry,
meanwhile, take you in a different direction. They play on your dress-up whims
which begin with your mother’s multi-strand pearls fastened
around your neck when you're small.
You admire the delicate designs
or the bold workings of metal and stone or intricate beaded fabrications.
You
want to put on a raft of necklaces, or maybe just one perfect pendant, and slip
into a caftan and sashay to a place that serves wine and outdoor poetry
readings if you only knew where such a place might be.
With this same unique jewelry,
but with towel and swimsuit tossed into one of the commodious carryalls also for sale
(and which I virtuously resisted, my tote bag shelf being full), you might opt instead
to a game of volleyball on the beach.
A large component of art fairs is
the creativity that it causes to circulate. It begins in the mind, eye, heart and
hands of the artist. It travels to those inspired by their work, each with the
various influences derived from it.
A few tents offered books with
the authors not exactly hiding behind the piles of their copies but likely
trying to read interest on your face as the title makes contact with you.
Authors must come to book-signings
with tight throats. They recognize their work is being sized up. The value of
their product is established by the willingness of the public to buy.
The food tents and music and
entertainment venues draw their crowds. Many of us were in the queues for drinks and refreshments
as the steamy afternoon pressed on.
Certain members of my group were
intent on one specific thing. They were here for the pork chops.
The cooked pork chops are
possibly the festival’s biggest attraction. They’re cooked on location with a
great deal of smoke and the smell of the meat to mark their territory.
Champing at the bit for pork
chops my group managed to rein in their appetites until we could all be
together. They made it longer than one determined gal.
Perhaps she’d waited all year for
pork chops in the park. She was oblivious to all things as she sat over her pork
chop, enjoying every bite of her forenoon chew.
We sat at the picnic table by the
river with our pork chops. The smoke from the cooking area hung in the heavy air. It was in our hair and on our clothes and in our
eyes.
At the moment it didn’t matter. To avoid the smoke was to be absent from the festival. Having allergies or sensitivities can rule out many things. Smoke very much bothers me but here I was nevertheless.
Nearby was the music and we ate
and enjoyed. And then someone thought of ice cream cones for dessert. Maybe an art festival
is really the art of enjoyment practiced on a large scale.
Now for some summer fun
nearer to home. We’re in the midst of the Minneapolis Aquatennial and it puts July in the city in lights.
Called the best days of summer
the annual event has something for everyone. For us it’s the milk carton races
on Lake Calhoun and also the fireworks that stream and blaze and arc high above
the Mississippi River on the final night.
Summer rightfully is a succession
of community celebrations and events planned to take us out and about in the embrace of nature at her best.
There’s no need to refer to the
calendar for weeks on end. We cross off each event as it comes along and mark
the next one we aim to attend.
It’s a lovely way to do summer. Dratted dew
points and all.
Ro Giencke – July 17, 2012
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