It’s been an absolute whirlwind. We’ve been here and there and everywhere. I started writing this post while sitting at the Buffalo airport, waiting to board a flight to Tampa. Family calls, and I’m going.
We packed up the country house on Tuesday late afternoon after enjoying a solid eleven-day run with family and friends like family. We had newborns, toddlers, seniors, and son-in-law’s parents: it was a beautiful mess of stylish and delicious memories. We always set the dinner table for a dozen or more each evening, the kids were a ball, and Bill was the most gracious BaPa and stellar wine steward.
I wanted time in my garden and had to let it all go except for a few hours that I could sneak out here and there. Daily walks with my oldest daughter were the self-care and solitude part of the day; the garden will wait.
The morning after July 3rd, I woke up and thought I couldn’t do this anymore (putting on dinner and drinks for multitudes), but I can and will. Bill simply tells me, babe, we have a big family, which puts everything in perspective. Big family means considerable energy, so here I am.
I’m here in Florida to be with Elizabeth, our third daughter, so she too can one day have a beautiful mess of her own if she chooses. This little window of July is delicate, and she’s headed to graduate school in London this September. The world continues to turn.
Minutes before I left the countryside, I cut the basil back. While Bill was driving us home to our life in the city, I plucked each leaf off the stems. I was determined to make pesto and to put it up in the freezer for another time. I finished just before I left for the airport, and Caroline laughed at me lovingly and said, ‘only you, Mom, would make pesto before flying.’ Like most things I do, I made double pesto.