I have been thinking this week about what makes summer summer, and what we can do or not do to make time feel slow. I have five ideas so far.
I haven't written about writing letters in quite some time, but that doesn't mean I haven't been writing letters. While it's true that I don't correspond as frequently with others as I was doing a couple years back when I wrote a letter every single day for a year, I still have a collection of friends with whom my correspondence is solely through handwritten letters, back and forth, pen to paper, red flag to red flag.
To become more or different somehow is an act of grace, a testimony to the power of time to heal, a resounding "Yes" to the question of whether redemption is possible. My failures shine a spotlight on my successes, not the other way around. Because I've forgotten kindness toward the kids many times, and because that is something I'm working on remembering this year, it is noticeable to all when I speak tender, gracious words from a tender, gracious place in my heart.
I used to wait for cherry season to make this recipe. But then I decided to buy a bag of dried Montmorency cherries from Costco, and the wait was over. I'm happy to see fresh cherries arriving in the stores now that it's spring, so I'll make the salad the "real" way next time. The kids prefer that, but I should have them help me pit all the cherries sometime and see if they think the trouble is worth the taste.