Saturday, August 4, 2012
It is very hot.
Actually, I just checked the temperature. It's 88'F/31'C at a quarter to one pm, and climbing, so, it's not as hot as I thought. It feels much worse. The terrace is baking. We ate inside last night, always an indication of discomfort levels. Our new air conditioner is absotively posilutely wonderful. Because inside it is cool.
Flakes of grey ash from last night's braai fire are floating in a whirlwind on the terrace, on whose edge the orange portulaca has recovered from being transplanted and has opened all its buds at once. Bees are busy, strawberries keep turning red. For dessert last night we ate ground cherries from roof. Roof cherries. I'd still like to know what species of Physalis it is - low and spreading, stiff limbed, with the tight little lanterns uncomfortably close to the striped branches, not suspended, like the Cape gooseberries of South African Physalis agriculture.
I have to bake today. Counterintuitive. But there is probably a rhubarb tart in The Book and if so it needs to be photographed, and I need to decide on a final recipe. With tarts I change what I do every time. I found some wonderfully late rhubarb stalks, and pounced.
Later, we may walk to Dumbo to find that glorious passionfruit soft serve sorbet again. But it might melt too fast. And has anyone seen ripe beach plums, yet?
The aeroplane (in South African)/airplane is a future thought. We will fly to South Africa at the end of November for a mere week. I know. But book editing will be in full progress and I'm told that longer will not be a good idea. My father is turning 80, my mom's birthday is a couple of days later, and there will be a Party. With tents and music and catering by the wonderful Food Fanatics, who are the next best thing to doing it oneself. We'll swoop in, help with everything, do flowers, party, perhaps zip up the West Coast to Kobus van de Merwe's Oep ve Koep, zip back and then return to Brooklyn. Hopefully we'll be able to visit for longer in the first part of next year. We miss the road. We need to air the tent. Last night we talked about living in a house on a beach. One can dream. I even found one, in Kommetjie, near this beach.
If we put all our eggs in one basket...and borrowed some other eggs. And promised omelettes, all round...
Back here, the cat's birthday is approaching. He may or may not be 13. What might be a suitable gift?