Coolness

I've been sick for four or five days now, with an off-again, on-again sore throat.  This ad by Tylenol pretty much sums up my lifelong remedy of choice for sore throats - but I don't need any medicine doped in my Popsicle, thank you.  Popsicles are medicine. They work far better than any cough drop, they feel like a treat so they pull you out of sickie depressions, they come in sugarless varieties so you don't have to worry about sugar killing all your white blood cells, they come in  fun shapes, they're cheerful, they're colourful, they last a fairly long time so they're a guaranteed five to ten minutes of pain-free distraction, and they're cheap!

My Aunt Eleanor made the best grape popsicles.   All the grownups in my world made their posicles out of kool-aid, but for some reason her's tasted extra vibrant. It took me years to develop a recipe that approximated hers.  I think her secret was that she must have doubled the kool-aid packages without doubling the sugar, and maybe one of her packages was grape and the other was lemonade?  Not quite hers but very close.  And sometimes when I want an extra kick I do two grapes to one lemonade. That last slurp is a doozy.

I've been looking online for fun ice pop molds, (not that there's anything wrong with the traditional paper cup ones!)  These Hog Wild Zoo Pops are pretty cool in a Jumanji sort of way.  I bet they don't look this intricate and etched when regular people make them though...  (What!? No truth in advertising you say?)

These Swirly Popsicle molds by Orka are all that and a bag of chips.  They're lickable unfilled!

These Yellow Groovy Ice Molds by Tovolo are understated, but I think they'd look really good made into:

Easy, Creamy, Lemon Dream Popsicles (via Whipped)
2/3 cup sugar
5 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
2 tablespoons grated lemon peel
1 pinch salt
1 2/3 cup buttermilk

Whisk sugar, lemon juice, lemon peel, and salt in 4-cup measuring cup until sugar dissolves. Whisk in buttermilk.
Divide mixture among ice pop molds. Cover and freeze until firm, at least 4 hours and up to 5 days.




If you find these Sailsicles by Cuisipro anywhere let me know!  They were all the rage two years ago but now I can't find them anywhere :(

Summer Rain

Early last evening we stepped outside to drive to the movies and smelled a scent we rarely smell here in Washington - light new rain hitting hot cement. That's a Utah smell, a Queen's Creek smell, a Leavenworth smell. It's not a Seattle smell, at least not very often, and definitely not a Seattle in March smell.

After three weeks trapped inside I was vulnerable. The smell, that lovely wet cement smell, drifted to me and caught me unawares almost buckling my knees with its potency. Instantly I was in other places, different seasons; my children babes, marriage brand spanking new.
Sweet stolen kisses under blueberry bushes; watching my first child crawl, keeping her from eating leaves in the hot summer park. First son standing under the zoo sprinklers reveling in the spontaneity, the freedom from rules, hardly able to contain his happiness, his joy. Second son gathering all the bats, all the balls, all the neighborhood for a game - if he can beat the rain. Last son knighting his friends, cape and crown askew, king for his birthday. A West Mountain day, all of us trying to bring the hay in as lightning flashes in the distance and black clouds blow the threat of rain our way.

How can one small scent contain so much; multitudes?

"Dandelion Wine. The words were summer on the tongue. The wine was summer caught and stoppered...Hold summer in your hand, pour summer in a glass, a tiny glass of course, the smallest tingling sip for children; change the season in your veins by raising glass to lip and tilting summer in."

                                                                                                           Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine

                                                                                                            
One small whiff and my heart pounds thru the memories...

...a brand new box of crayolas, the one with a million colours

...freshly mown grass mixed with gasoline

...sweet babies; toddler arms

...bread in the oven

...my sons' necks, my daughter's hair, the oil of my husband's skin and his warm breath in the early hours of morning

...the mingling of kettle corn, funnel cakes, cows steaming and cotton candy roastingspinning at the County Fair

...soft kitten paws

...hot off the press newsprint

...the first strawberries of the year

...the oil seeped into cement smell of a mechanic's garage

...clean hay in a lovely old barn

...after all these years, still, my mom's perfume, my dad's Old Spice

...a freshly cut real Christmas tree

...plowed fields, moist dark earth overturned

...thin pancakes crisping their edges in sizzling popping bacon remains

...the chlorine of the college swimming pool

.. my best friend's Lysol clean home

...clothes warm out of the dryer

...a crisp new book, still stiff in the bind

...popcorn and butter in a movie theater

...peaches, peaches, peaches, never enough peaches
...snow in the air

Image1  Lucem , Image2 josefa fritz barham