Those of you who share our lovely Irish climate will be scratching your heads and wondering where the summer has gone. Is it over? Did it ever really start? Were you, like me putting on a brave face while secretly hoping that September would waft in, bringing with it a good old Indian Summer?
I am painfully aware that, over the last couple of months, I have banged on about home-made granola, yogurt and eating in the garden to up your vitamin D (I give in – rush to your nearest Holland & Barrett and buy some!). I have taken photos outside between showers. I have had small items like blueberries and seeds regularly blown off my trusty wooden boards in gusts of wind, dogs rushing in for the kill (anyone know why dogs like blueberries?).
I have struggled to get enough light to make the food appear less than dim. I have just ordered a lighting kit, reluctantly, to shed, quite literally, a bit of light on the situation – my 1st job was as a professional photographer – medical, not food, but the skills are transferable, right?
I have grown and eaten salad and enjoyed them but mostly indoors. I have bought, pickled and preserved a plethora of reduced goodies in the fruit and veg section of a local supermarket (every little helps!).
Then: I woke up this morning, having been put in the ignominious position of putting the electric blanket on last night, and felt something that was distinctly autumnal. Really? That’s it? Summer is actually over?
I resolved not to be beaten into submission. Ok, no granola today but I’ll be damned, I tell you, if I fold completely. Let there be porridge but it’ll be light and fresh and decadent. So there, weather – do your worst and I’ll gamely try to do my best [insert image of brave, yet trembling smile and rousing music].