the joy of watermelon
Summer is one of my least favorite seasons. Depending on where we live, it's a toss up between summer and spring. I know, I know...everyone thinks I'm crazy. How can you not love summer? Ice cream, lazy days, the drone of insects in the summer sun, the beach...summer is a time when all of creation is on vacation -lazy and unconscious of time while at the same time excited and full of fun.
I hear you. I do like going to the beach, mostly at sunrise/set (depending on which coast). I like walking along and discovering shells, feeling the wind blow in off of the water, making sand castles and I like wearing a light to mid-weight jacket, a comfy t-shirt and jeans with no socks or shoes while I enjoy these activities. The beach is a great fall/spring activity (winter even, in South GA).
The drone of insects makes me think of muggy, humid air and limp, clingy hair and clothing. Ice cream is a treat I can occasionally enjoy...inside. I despise drippy ice cream making a sticky mess on arms, clothes, shoes and pooling on cement. I vastly prefer it enjoyed in civilized company, indoors, with metal spoons, in glass dishes - with toppings!
However, there are some things that even I both enjoy and recognize as unique to summer. One of those things is: watermelon. Watermelon is the pleasantest part of summer. I find joy in the entirety of the experience:
I love the musical sound of the thumps and the thuds as we "test" the melons at the farmer's market to guess which will have the best flavor. I enjoy the conversation with farmer himself as he explains how his mama taught him to pick a melon.
He thumps and thuds along with us, grinning at the sight of the children as they strain to hear a difference in the sound. Then, he gently rolls a melon over to expose it's yellowed belly, explaining that this is where it lay and that the coloring of a melon is a good clue as well.
After both children assert that they want to carry this purchase and they each try fruitlessly (haha) to lift it, we laugh and settle on Daddy carrying the prize to the van. The treasure is nestled into the cargo well and we stuff a quilt around it to prevent rolling and resultant bruising (or worse!)
Once home, the great oval sits on the floor in the kitchen for a few days until Mama has time to devote to The Great Opening. Having learned (painfully in the case of the toddler) that watermelons are not seats or stools...on That day, the kids are playing unsuspectingly in the other room when Mama suddenly announces, "Ok, let's cut the watermelon!" Excitement!
The kids rush out into the yard wearing old clothing, or, in the case of the youngest, no clothing, save his diaper. Mama comes out bearing the great burden, snuggles it into a spot on the soft, green grass and then goes back for the BIG knife. Mama carefully selects her starting position, places the knife and easily slices into the great fruit. With a little pressure, the watermelon splits in front of the knife, with a gentle cracking, groaning sort of sound. Magically, it falls open with a release of the sweetest, green and growing kind of smell - displaying a dynamic, deep red, contrasted by the glistening black seeds.
She takes one of the halves and slices out a couple of giant smiles. The children laugh as she places them into their hands. The slices are so big and thick that they can scarcely hold them, the baby's has to be cut in half for him. Grinning, they bite into the very center. Their mouths fill with the sweetest heart of the watermelon until their noses disappear into the meat of nature's best candy. Bright pink juices run down chins, bellies and arms, creating pink streams that join into pink rivers and drip off, disappearing into the brilliant green grass.
Mama cuts slice after thick slice until the small mountain of rinds along with the bloated stomachs and slowed pace of the consumers signals that the gorging is over. The rinds are thrown far out into the woods for someone else to enjoy. Mama gets out the hose and gleefully "cleans" her somewhat shocked children. Then, she turns the hose over to them and they "clean" the remnants of their sticky feast from themselves and the ground. Now, mama goes inside with the remaining melon and contentedly slices the rest into a large bowl to be enjoyed in moderation over the next few days.
Listening to the squeals and excitement outside, even I can admit that summer is not ALL bad... ;)
I hear you. I do like going to the beach, mostly at sunrise/set (depending on which coast). I like walking along and discovering shells, feeling the wind blow in off of the water, making sand castles and I like wearing a light to mid-weight jacket, a comfy t-shirt and jeans with no socks or shoes while I enjoy these activities. The beach is a great fall/spring activity (winter even, in South GA).
The drone of insects makes me think of muggy, humid air and limp, clingy hair and clothing. Ice cream is a treat I can occasionally enjoy...inside. I despise drippy ice cream making a sticky mess on arms, clothes, shoes and pooling on cement. I vastly prefer it enjoyed in civilized company, indoors, with metal spoons, in glass dishes - with toppings!
However, there are some things that even I both enjoy and recognize as unique to summer. One of those things is: watermelon. Watermelon is the pleasantest part of summer. I find joy in the entirety of the experience:
I love the musical sound of the thumps and the thuds as we "test" the melons at the farmer's market to guess which will have the best flavor. I enjoy the conversation with farmer himself as he explains how his mama taught him to pick a melon.
He thumps and thuds along with us, grinning at the sight of the children as they strain to hear a difference in the sound. Then, he gently rolls a melon over to expose it's yellowed belly, explaining that this is where it lay and that the coloring of a melon is a good clue as well.
After both children assert that they want to carry this purchase and they each try fruitlessly (haha) to lift it, we laugh and settle on Daddy carrying the prize to the van. The treasure is nestled into the cargo well and we stuff a quilt around it to prevent rolling and resultant bruising (or worse!)
Once home, the great oval sits on the floor in the kitchen for a few days until Mama has time to devote to The Great Opening. Having learned (painfully in the case of the toddler) that watermelons are not seats or stools...on That day, the kids are playing unsuspectingly in the other room when Mama suddenly announces, "Ok, let's cut the watermelon!" Excitement!
The kids rush out into the yard wearing old clothing, or, in the case of the youngest, no clothing, save his diaper. Mama comes out bearing the great burden, snuggles it into a spot on the soft, green grass and then goes back for the BIG knife. Mama carefully selects her starting position, places the knife and easily slices into the great fruit. With a little pressure, the watermelon splits in front of the knife, with a gentle cracking, groaning sort of sound. Magically, it falls open with a release of the sweetest, green and growing kind of smell - displaying a dynamic, deep red, contrasted by the glistening black seeds.
She takes one of the halves and slices out a couple of giant smiles. The children laugh as she places them into their hands. The slices are so big and thick that they can scarcely hold them, the baby's has to be cut in half for him. Grinning, they bite into the very center. Their mouths fill with the sweetest heart of the watermelon until their noses disappear into the meat of nature's best candy. Bright pink juices run down chins, bellies and arms, creating pink streams that join into pink rivers and drip off, disappearing into the brilliant green grass.
Mama cuts slice after thick slice until the small mountain of rinds along with the bloated stomachs and slowed pace of the consumers signals that the gorging is over. The rinds are thrown far out into the woods for someone else to enjoy. Mama gets out the hose and gleefully "cleans" her somewhat shocked children. Then, she turns the hose over to them and they "clean" the remnants of their sticky feast from themselves and the ground. Now, mama goes inside with the remaining melon and contentedly slices the rest into a large bowl to be enjoyed in moderation over the next few days.
Listening to the squeals and excitement outside, even I can admit that summer is not ALL bad... ;)
bwahahahaha!
i also find that the older i get the less i enjoy being icky and sticky...