I remember those endless, warm summers when we'd make cherry Koolaid, poured over ice, and drop a few cherries on top. My mother called it Cherry Lemonade...
She grew a few wild roses, pale pink ones that eventually were smothered by tree roots over the years.There was tea. On those warm summer days. On the old blue and white Mikado china, and grapevine cups, steaming with amber.Bees hummed around Caraway Seed cake, thick cream, and the sugar bowl. They were always hopeful. Usually, drunken flies landed on the Cherry lemonade, spilled over on the table.One, or both of our cats wandered by the porch, sleepily looking for a place to flop. My mother hummed tuneless tunes. Her favourite was "Let me call you Sweetheart"...She told me how my dad liked to sing it to her, years ago. Long ago. In the summertime. She missed him. She never said as such, but I knew. After seed cake, the koolaid and tea, we'd pick sweet peas. They grew like ivy, all over the side of the house. So tall. I'd get a chair to stand on, and pick handfuls for the old white pitcher. I still have that pitcher. It waits, yearly, for sweet peas..."I heard a red-winged blackbird singing down where the river sleeps in the reeds: that was morning, and at noontime a hummingbird flashed on the jewel-weeds......clouds blew up, and in the evening a yellow sunset struck through the rain, then blue night, and the day was ended that will never come again..." - Sara Teasdale ( A June Day)
My world hummed with the heat. Ants marched back and forth, stealing crumbs of seed cake.Trees rustled. The sprinkler sprinkled. Sweet peas and nasturtiums bloomed at the side of the old porch steps, where my mother sat with her tea. We'd slurp frozen Koolaid popsicles, mixed with cherry jello, a melting frozen treat on a stick. Bare feet on hot pavement. End of day.It was summer. Every summer...
Photographs 2026
My world hummed with the heat. Ants marched back and forth, stealing crumbs of seed cake.
Trees rustled. The sprinkler sprinkled. Sweet peas and nasturtiums bloomed at the side of the old porch steps, where my mother sat with her tea. 
We'd slurp frozen Koolaid popsicles, mixed with cherry jello, a melting frozen treat on a stick. Bare feet on hot pavement. End of day.
It was summer. Every summer...
Photographs 2026
