The colours of summer. Even when everything is hard and horrid it's all somehow easier, softened at the edges when it's summer ......the time of no coats and bare shoulders, and the windows wide open at night.....and the gardens bursting with the red of geraniums and the pink of dahlias and the blue of lobelia, and the thick green hedgerows brushing the sides of the car in hot narrow lanes.... with the music turned up loud.....and mint and cucumber slices float in jugs of water and the tomatoes taste of tomatoes.... and BBQ smoke drifts in the streets... and the faces of my friends, my loved ones, are touched by the sun. I love it that there is still more summer to come.
Today, a Thursday, which is always special to me, while I'm buying eggs in Waitrose, I bump into a friend I haven't seen for ages. Her husband, who is the only person I know who has semantic dementia, like Robin, now lives in a home and although he doesn't have MND he has difficulty walking and speaking. It seems that dementia doesn't only hurt the mind. My heart goes out to her.
Later I take a roasted veggie and feta frittata and my ubiquitous Lemon Polenta Drizzle cake to a gorgeous summer lunch with lots of beautiful women to celebrate a birthday. I feel so blessed and nourished by their company. Like summer, their love and care and acknowledgement softens the edges of my burden and makes it all lighter and easier to carry.
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