The weather in July is postcard-worthy on the farm. Everything is lush and full and vibrantly green. The sky is a bright primary blue; fat white clouds drift across it, looking close enough to touch. I take a bike ride in the morning. I cycle past wide fields striped with perfectly geometric lines of tall corn, white painted farmhouses, horse pastures bordered by weathered gray fences that sag in the center.
Read morePEACH BLUEBERRY GALETTE
There is something infinitely comforting about small towns. The streets appear to be lifted from a children’s book, the orderly sort that teaches you neighborhood words: policeman, schoolhouse, doctor, farmer.
This week, we drove up into the Catskills for an evening by the lake, ending up in Woodstock for dinner. To get to the water, we drive past a tiny white steepled church, next to a wide brook that rushes over smooth gray boulders. A weathered red barn houses a theater where indie bands will play all summer. We drive out of town late at night with the windows down, the air smelling sweetly of cut grass.
Read moreRED PESTO PASTA FOR TIRED NIGHTS
I've spent the past few days in the mountains. My mother has just completed her final summit to become a 46er, which means hiking all 46 mountains in the Adirondacks over 4,000 feet. It's a serious badge of honor amongst hikers. She's been at it for a few years now, logging miles of trail and generally becoming even more of a badass, epic all-around person. To mark the occasion, my sisters and I joined my parents for the last few hikes. After a very grueling 14 hour hike on Friday, we got to the trail bright and early on Saturday for the final ascent.
Read moreALMOND RICOTTA PESTO PASTA
What do you cook during a summer rain? I like pasta – comforting and simple, but light enough for wet but warm June evenings. I worked on Squam Lake in New Hampshire as a backcountry caretaker one summer, and there I’d eat a lot of quick, easy meals cooked over a camp stove. Each night, I drive the Boston Whaler out to my worksite: a tiny, worn cabin on a small island with dried pasta and pesto from the fresh basil in our garden.
Read moreCHOCOLATE BISCOTTI + STORMY WEATHER
Last week at home on the farm it stormed. The thunderstorm was sudden and intense, like most summer storms. They sweep in from nowhere. The sky stays blue and bright until just before it starts. The only warning is a subtle change in the atmosphere --- the air feels damp and crackles in anticipation as if with some secret electric charge. Clouds gather quickly. The temperature drops ten degrees. A few raindrops fall, becoming a constant patter, and then sheets of water sluice down from above. The rain is so heavy that your shirt soaks through when you dash outside to check your car windows.
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