A Midsummer’s Night

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There’s nothing I love more than being surrounded by good people, exceptional food and sweet white wine. So naturally this summer, a few weeks before I moved out of the little white house and onto a new chapter in my life, I threw a dinner party.

We poured sparkling lemonade and chilled white wine into thrift store mason jars. We ate creamy risotto, balsamic and honey chicken skewers mixed with crisp red peppers and sweet onions. There was prosciutto wrapped asparagus and black bean quinoa salad mixed with earthy cilantro and a tangy vinaigrette. For dessert we filled our bowls with velvety mint ice cream and tart red cherries drizzled in hot fudge that threatened to spill over.

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Trance-like summer

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This past week, amidst the normal blur of conference calls, weekly meetings and my ever present procrastination, I found myself day dreaming.

There is a sort of melancholy that happens with each new season. As though life has finally caught up with you, and you realize the closing of another chapter.

While the fall was fresh, crisp and inviting with its spicy cider and cozy scarfs, and winter promises powdered sugar trees and sweet mulled wine, I’ve been recollecting on my summer a few years ago lost among the land of 10,000 lakes and exploring an introverted side of myself that I have never really known.

I had time to think, read good books and take naps. I spent long days in freckled skin drinking fresh lemonade and eating grilled corn.

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