Summer's Final Bow

My town has the most charming ice cream shop.  It's painted in sherbet colors and has a rick-rack of gingerbread trim.  I don't indulge every day but enough to know the owners who winter in Florida each year.  But our conversations are all too brief during the height of summer when a line snakes out past their picnic tables into a grove of trees.  Still, the ice cream is rich and wonderful and worth the wait.

Have you noticed how some things are most beautiful just before they disappear?  Falling stars, brides who depart for exciting new lives, flowers, and of course, tender seasons that cannot last.  Right now I am enjoying summer's swan song - the air is warm and balmy and the sun is throwing stirring shadows and light;  total eclipses notwithstanding. 

Knowing that summer must soon end, I find myself holding on to it for dear life.  I love the plump native tomatoes in overflowing bins at the market.  As my mother taught me, I eat them like apples as I sit on the front stoop watching juices flow down my arm.  It's ok because the garden hose is still unraveled in the side yard just as it always is until September - I'm a lazy hose-mistress to be sure.  Every Friday, I buy a farm-style bouquet filled with sunflowers and violet asters along with spikes of golden rod and dried beach fronds.  My rustic bouquets don't last as long as the prim blush roses I bought in early summer, but the colors are as warm and bright as October sunshine.

As well, I am getting the most from my liberating wardrobe.  Making sure each morning I select knee-skimming skirts with sleeveless tops or pretty dresses with billowing potential should I still find myself still wearing it when I fetch the recycling bin at the bottom of the driveway every Wednesday night.

As for perfume, I can't stop spritzing my eau fraiche blend that I keep cool in the refrigerator.  It's light and airy and not yet too weak for summer's final bow.  My coral lipsticks, a watercolor silk scarf, and other accouterments still call out to me.  I won't rush the goodbye because the hello takes so long.  

I'm sure I will surrender when summer turns back just long enough to take a final bow.  By then, I'll be longing to light some candles against a dark sky and chilly wind.  And it will seem odd to see the dried leaves flitting and falling on my garden hose.  I'll put that to bed along with the rattan furniture and the clay pots that are holding my spectacular geraniums and begonias which have never looked more gorgeous as they do right now in their vivid hues of reds and pink.  They seem to bloom over and over and over, like the last dazzling firework on July 4th.  

I'll miss the crickets and frogs which lull me to sleep and the dove that coos from a distance late in the morning.  I'll miss the cold gazpacho I finally mastered and the watermelon and corn.  But summer will really be over when the little pastel ice cream shop finally shutters its windows and closes its doors.  They'll put out the scratchy homemade sign that reminds us they will be back next summer.  And each year...I try to believe them.

(Top image by Trent Gudmundsen)

On A Picnic Morning

Some of us remember a time when lowly wooden picnic tables dotted our country roads and highways. Today my town has one table in a small grove of trees off our central road.  I've never seen anyone use it but I think about it every time I drive by.

Back before the proliferation of fast food restaurants, families carried their lunches in picnic hampers and baskets and merely stopped on the side of the road for a mid-day feast without long lines, spilled milkshakes, and assembly line food.  And picnic fare was much healthier and cheaper because it was Mom-made.

Several years ago on a lunch hour from work, I happened across a gorgeous coffee-table book about picnics. Page after glossy page showed the many ways one could craft an enchanting picnic.  The woven baskets were overflowing with delectable foodstuffs as well as bottles of wine and lush flowers.  Some of the pages showed Sharper Image-level technical picnic props such as pop-up tables and chairs, and some more fanciful spreads had real crystal, china tea cups and silver cutlery.  I was enchanted by a blanket-strewn picnic that included a candelabra replete with dangling prisms!

As I poured over the recipes, I had a revelation:   instead of spending $35 on a book about picnics, I should just have picnics!  So I returned the book to the store rack, speculating that I already had the recipes for a nice picnic right at home in my grandmother's recipe box.  One needn't have fancy pretentious food - just thoughtfully prepared provisions that are fresh and in season.  Soon I found out how much fun it is to creative outdoor repasts for friends and family.  Adding a requisite plaid blanket for sitting upon and a book makes for a delightful day that can begin in the morning and with enough refreshments, end only when shadows cast.

The picnic book did teach me one good lesson - sometimes instead of reading about how to do something, we should just do it.  And while picnics may be old-fashioned, they hearken back to simpler times when life was slow...and humble tables beckoned from every roadside.

~

Favorite picnic fare:

Chicken salad sandwiches with spinach leaves

Cherry tomatoes mixed with olive oil and chopped basil with ricotta cheese as a dip

Celery stuffed with cream cheese and sprinkled with paprika

Homemade chocolate chip cookies

Brownies

Grapes, apples, and pears (fall)

Watermelon, peaches (summer)

Iced tea

~

On a picnic morning without a warning

I looked at you and somehow I knew

On a day for singing,

My heart went winging

A picnic grove was our rendezvous

You and I in the sunshine

We strolled the fields and farms

At the last light of evening,

I held you in my arms

So when days grow stormy

And lonely for me

I just recall picnic time and you.

Picnic Songwriters

G. Dunning, S. Allen 

Do you have picnics?

Summer Style Note - Wringing Summer Dry

As I drove home from work the other day, I noticed that one lone tree in the center of town has a smidgen of red on its top.   Instead of making me sad, I decided to redouble my efforts to wring dry every drop of summer.  Also in response, my August Seventeens went back to storage and I bought a stone-colored denim skirt to wear with my relaxed tee shirts on the weekend.  It's unusual for me to buy something new this late in the season but I am determined to live this summer to the very end.  In stone-cold January, I will thank myself. 

I am guessing this image was taken in the 60's.  I adore the crisp white pants, the bright print shirt, and especially, the whimsical bow hat.  Our model pulled out all the stops to go painting on the beach.  Making summer last means pulling out some stops too - making salads with native tomatoes and corn, eating ice cream, and drinking gallons of homemade iced tea.  As much as my new skirt sounds rather dull, don't expect me to settle into pre-fall drab right now - I'm all about my colorful dresses, white jeans, jeweled sandals and my beribboned beach hats.  

Last night at our summer theater, I spotted a fellow believer.  She wore a delightful sleeveless vintage gown in creamy mint sherbet with a chiffon overlay that trailed behind her.  Around her waist was a belt made of tiny seashells that matched the two bracelets on her left wrist.  And tucked behind her ear was a huge tropical lily.  Talk about embracing the season - she was not a day younger than 91. And although she needed help walking to her seat, a few glimpses her way told me she enjoyed the show very much - the smile never left her face. 

In the winter of life, she is still wringing summer dry. 

Summer Style Note - Beach Cover-Ups

Living in a coastal town that becomes resort-like each summer, means that the beach cover-up is a standard wardrobe staple.  There are shops that carry nothing but clothing to wear over a swim suit and the local TJ Maxx dedicates prime retail real estate to such "toppers" from April to August.

My dream cover-up was at Nordstrom last year for only $189.  It was merely an inverted table cloth with a hole at the top for one's head.  I loved the feminine scrolled lace that connected to create the arms and the crisp batiste cotton.  But in the end, not only would I not spend my hard-earned retirement money on a scrap of material, I couldn't stop thinking about my grandmother's lace tablecloth whenever I looked at it on my online wishlist.

Instead, I found a very nice light-weight and simple white tunic that doesn't require ironing (who irons beach cover-ups?).  But if you want to find something really pretty and girly, there are plenty of cover-ups to choose from.  Seen this season:

Drop-dead black lace sheath with bell sleeves

Mini-dress in watery turquoise print

White tunic with embroidered gold medallions

Maxi-dress in gyrating red stripes

~

When I was a teenager on Cape Cod, we simply pulled our brothers' football shirts over our swim suits. Cover-ups today are a whole new food group.

Summer Style Note - Dresses

Summer sun dresses were staples in my wardrobe as a child.  Many were made by my grandmother who was a skilled seamstress.  Rick-rack, daisy chain trims, pretty buttons, and deep hems were some of the lovely features of those dresses.  And because I am a twin, Nana made two of each!

I still remember some of my little-girl dresses:  a white pique with a hem-full of bright flowers and verdant ferns, a soft sorbet seersucker in creamsicle.  My mother had excellent taste.  She knew that there is nothing prettier than a little girl in a sweet summer frock.  I knew that too, when I ordered a pink and grey Liberty print sundress from the iconic London clothier for my daughter.  It cost a pretty penny but it is lovingly and carefully stored in tissue paper and boxed alongside her Christening dress awaiting potential future inhabitants.

For years, I never wore summer dresses.  I simply couldn't find many styles I liked.  But the last few seasons there has been a plethora of selections and I have been able to amass a new little collection. One of my favorites is a periwinkle blue number with coral blooms in crisp cotton broadcloth.  The ease of pulling on a perfect summer dress cannot be underestimated on a torrid summer day.  Of course, I no longer wear the traditional sundress but there are dresses out there for women of a certain age too.  And if one doesn't want to show off arms, a fitted coordinating cardigan over a sundress can be very '50's elegant and tres charmant!

Summer Style Note - Straw Handbags

Every mother who dropped her child off at our town's lake for morning swim lessons had a straw or rattan handbag balancing on the passenger seat of the family station wagon.   Even if mom's summer consisted of nothing more than carpooling, making endless batches of potato salad, and refereeing fights over the pool floats, a neutral woven tote beckoned seaside adventures with whispering beach grasses and lapping waves on sandy shores.

Woven raffia and straw make a fairly durable summer purse especially if it includes leather straps and handles.  Many of yesterday's straw bags were embellished with cherry bunches for additional whimsy and charm.  Some straw handbags from the late 1960's were glazed and painted navy or white for nautical-esque appeal.  They were also made with brass or metal hardware and were as impervious as a good leather bag.

I don't pretend to be an expert on straw bags but I am certain there must be collectors and dealers who have written about the evolution of the basket to handbag.  I do know that at the height of summer, when I get out my straw handbag, I suddenly feel more relaxed and beachy.  Today there are a multitude of styles including designer versions.  A few years ago, I bought a Michael Kors rendition that included heavy gold-plated chain handles that made the bag so cumbersome, I called it "my appliance".  It felt like a toaster oven with a handle.  It was just simply too big a commitment for summer so I was lucky to find a rattan "Kelly Bag" style with a black patent leather strap.  Occasionally, a piece of the straw will come undone at the bottom but I reattach with glue and my bag goes merrily on its way, looking carefree and chic.  For dressing up, I tie a colorful chiffon kerchief around the handle to match my skirt or top.  

As your summer evolves, look for straw totes at farmer's markets and boutiques.  The bespoke Nantucket lightship basket purse is always an option for a few hundred dollars but there are many less costly adaptations if you want a petite basket bag for evening.  A black linen shift looks elegantly chic with a small woven bag.

Our mothers knew that straw handbags could certainly venture beyond the seashore.  They looked just right in the middle of a suburban backyard summer too!

~

My grandmother with my sister and I.  I believe those are cherries on her rattan tote.

Christmas gift (Nantucket lighthouse basket-inspired).

Baby Don't Go

A strange phenomenon occurs when the summer is just about to depart. Like an expectant mother who, although weighted and unwieldy, suddenly throws herself into frenetic nesting, I try to fit in every last bit of the season despite the obvious shortening days and slanting shadows.  Right now, I am pool swimming each night after work, eating ice cream cones every chance I get, patio lounging with potentially ruinous abandon, and chasing the scent of lobster rolls to every shack and hole-in-the-wall around. Next weekend will be my last under-the-stars outdoor theater night until next summer.  I don't even want to talk about fall.

Maybe it was because this year's winter was so cold and cruel and I'm not anxious for a repeat.  Or maybe it's because this New England summer has been so lovely.  Or perhaps it's because I no longer have such a soul-crushing job and therefore, have the time to, well...smell the roses.  And the lemon-scented geraniums.  And the tomatoes...and fried clams...

But that doesn't explain this activity of mine at the end of every summer.  There is just something about the feeling that one is going to have to say goodbye soon that really makes me want to savor every last drop...of peach iced tea, that is.  Like the couple that visits New York City just before they are to be parted...running about experiencing everything "New York" just in the nick of time.  Making memories to sustain them until they meet again.

I can't imagine what it will be like when I don't reach for my favorite khaki shorts and sleeveless t-shirts anymore.  There is something so magical about a light breeze tickling the hair on one's bare arms.  This is the real fashion ease that we style editors are always extolling.  I dread thinking about layers and frozen toes and flannel nightgowns.  And yet, I feel the vibrations of those days - those sweater days - just over the pink and gold sunset.

Oh I'm sure they will arrive.  And once they do, I will adapt and even embrace them.  But for now...for today...you can find me lollygagging at dusk on a chaise in my backyard, or sitting at the town dock, ice cream dripping down my naked arm.