slice of life ~ late july

July...a month filled with both beauty and heartache.

My son, Philip's birthday was July 21st. He would've been 31 years old. How do you imagine your child being 31 years old when they passed away at the tender, young age of 21? The more time that passes, the harder it is to imagine what he would look like or what he would be doing. But I give thanks for the day he was born. The day I became a mother. One of the greatest gifts of my life.

We celebrated Brian's birthday a few days later. The three of us went out to dinner at a lovely local restaurant on a lake and dined al fresco.

The farm stands finally open in July here and the farmer's markets are also bursting with fresh corn, tomatoes, peppers, radishes, green beans, blueberries, onions, and potatoes. I've been making gazpacho with fresh tomatoes and peppers, and one night we simply had corn, tomatoes and roasted fingerling potatoes for dinner. There is nothing like the taste of fresh produce. It is nothing like the waxy produce in the supermarkets that travels hundreds, or sometimes thousands, of miles to get to us. I hate supermarket tomatoes but will eat a ton of homegrown ones.

My perennial gardens are in their glory right now...coneflowers, phlox, bee balm, black-eyed susan, lilies, lamb's ear, hostas with their long-stemmed purple blooms, joe pye weed...and the herbs are producing like mad. Stepping out my front door and snipping fresh herbs for our meals is a simple pleasure in life that makes me happy.

I've seen quite a few butterflies in my yard this year. Plenty of red admirals and now monarchs (yay!) - most likely due to my neighbor having milkweed growing amongst his six foot tall weeds in front of his house. (Yes, the weeds really are that tall. He refers to the clusters of them on the side and front of his house as his "weed gardens". He's a nice guy and a great neighbor, so we try to overlook his weed jungles.) And last week, I saw a blue and black swallowtail on our garage! I haven't seen one of those around here in a couple of years.

Most every evening, Brian and I walk down to the lake and watch the sunset. Sometimes our neighbor-friends are out in their front yard and wave us over and we sit at their vintage outdoor table nestled in their gorgeous gardens and sit and talk until we realize how late it is and we're being bitten by mosquitoes. We walk home hand-in-hand in the dark, the neighborhood now quiet, crickets chirping and stars overhead. Somehow, it feels like July is perfect.