summer night moments

Thursday night we went out to throw a party for Sarah (left) and her impending baby. A bunch of us are making a knitalong blanket out of strips of Louet Gems, and I gathered the pieces that were finished. One from Olivia. One from Hau (she's there on the right). One from Susan, almost off her needles when I took this picture.

I've been having summer longing these days. Big changes in weather seem to make me ravenous for the opposite, and they intensify my feelings. Make me feel time passing so acutely. The heat and activity followed by the luxurious cool night air is doing this to me these past two weeks.

I wish for the millionth time in my life to have a camera in my head that is more reliable than my memory. But then realize for the same number-eth of times that I don't want that. I want the imperfect memories, glazed with a heat shimmer and dusted with a summer night cold.

I have a snapshot in my mind of a night at the very tail end of last summer when I had just set up my new craft room. I had the door cracked open and was working late, and a neighbor walked by and yelled hello. Another. Then a third neighbor came up on our yard, over to the window, handed a beer in and asked what I was up to. A perfect bow-tied-on-a-box, honest to God ice-cream-man moment of summer.

When I think of these past moments I'm filled up with - not happiness - but a sense of coziness and cheer. But when the moments are actually happening I get terribly lonesome and sad. I see them happening, then think we're all going to die. I think I'm having nostalgia in advance.

Thursday night was a quickly organized party for Sarah, who is either going to have a baby any minute or bear the name Chicken Little forevermore. She arrived in an adorable outfit with her enormous pregnancy looking very different than it had just a day ago.

We ate delicious chutneys and rice studded with black cumin seeds, a beet salad with roasted chickpeas that crunched and then disappeared in the mouth, and a cold blend of white wines. After dinner it wasn't enough time out having fun and knitting, so Sarah and I went alone to pix for dessert. She had a chocolate thing made of chocolate logs, I had a strawberry and liqueur soaked cake topped with Italian meringue. We were fancy people. We stayed out late. Like 10 o'clock. Cars were cruising by with radios on, the air hung heavy even at that hour.

Sarah forgot her camera, so I pulled around the corner on a particular block of Clinton Street where there's always someone skateboarding, bicycling, playing guitar on a porch. The fun block. We got back to pix and she ran in to get the camera. As she walked out, clicking on her probably last-time-this-pregnancy high heels, she raised her arm in the dark to make out her watch and hit the "split" button to start timing a contraction. I sat alone in the dark car and longed for the moment even as it passed.

Comments

[shobhana]

nostalgia in advance, yeah i get that. i, also, have nostalgia for past events that never occurred.

[sarah gilbert]

I was just thinking yesterday that summer was too far gone already... i've utterly lost my chance to plant morning glory, and chamomile, and more blueberries, and enough corn to feed the WHOLE family. I haven't even *thought* about opening the wading pool yet.

and, for future reference, the chocolate log thing is the Concord and it is my new fave. yum!

[jj]

i'm so sad i missed it.
and let me know if the wading pool ever opens, sarah! we'll come by for sure.

[julie]

I've been feeling the same way these days. Beautifully written post. I can almost taste the roasted chick peas.

[Hau]

The night ended too quickly for me as well. I really wanted to stay out until 10 pm. I can't believe I missed out on dessert :-(