…like a bottle of wine. Specifically like a dry, mineral Provençal rosé, which we loved on all summer but especially this August.
I think the pandemic has heightened my attention to the littlest details - maybe a way of grounding myself in the present, not obsessing over the future and getting in my head about the inevitable variables I (along with everyone else in the world) am facing. Some particularly August 2020 moments that stand out:
Cheap leather flip flops from Target - the broken-down straps across the top of my feet, rubbing at the innumerable mosquito bites endemic to the deepest part of Minnesota summer, slapping on concrete and sliding around, wet, on the dock.
the same five shirts, over and over, a pandemic wardrobe purchased in a panic after realizing that the clothes from my “weekend trip” in March wouldn’t suffice for a 90-degree summer.
The triple-knock of an incoming Slack message. The doorbell ding of someone joining one of the innumerable Zoom sessions that dominate my day. I find it fascinating that these tech giants have chosen such quotidian sounds of greeting - it highlights how blurred the lines have become between work and home, as if every time someone signs on to a meeting or contacts me, they’re inviting themselves into my home. It’s a bizarre conflation of environments that I don’t think I’ll ever really get used to.
Masks. The feeling of elastic snagging on my glasses or pulling at the backs of my ears, the way my butt-chin pulls them down when I laugh, the heat and fog of breathing through them. Realizing I have preferences - double-lined, filter, pleated, no nose wire - and unconsciously pairing certain patterns with certain of the aforementioned five shirts. The contempt of witnessing others blatantly flouting the mask rule - dangling from one’s ear by a strap, pulled down below the nose or under the chin, hanging from a wrist - realizing how rapidly I judge others, even in these most “uncertain of times.”
Bou’s joy and delight in being a Minnesota dog. The tip-tap of her race downstairs to say hi to Grandma and Grandpa every morning. The way her ears go back in pure pleasure at morning scratchies, strawberry tops, and peanut butter (hiding a daily allergy pill). The pull and prance of walks around Lake Harriet, as she peeks in every inlet to the water in search of ducks. The way she shadows my dad around the kitchen every night, waiting for her own small hamburger or little steak (she is the most spoiled, and they are the most in love).
Sunscreen - specifically my mom’s heavenly Neutrogena Dry Touch - on sun-toasted skin. Classic Dove body wash in my shower, scrubbing it off when it’s all done. Rose and hibiscus hand lotion, as even the most moisturizing soaps crack hands when used eight times a day. Stolen spritzes of my mom’s lemon and bergamot perfume before the precious few times we’ve dined out.
The new Taylor Swift album on repeat for a month straight. Spotify’s “Nancy Meyers’ Kitchen” playlist at dinner every night. The Garth channel in my dad’s car, which he has generously shared with me all summer long.
Hopping on the boat for sunset cruises or early mornings. Fighting with Bou’s life jacket (she’s gotten braver as the summer has stretched longer, and wants to be in the water if any of us are). Sipping wine or a cocktail out of a Tervis with a lid on. The thrum of the motor and splash of the wake as we drip sweat and savor the breeze, admiring real estate and marveling over the loons on Lake Minnetonka.
Late nights and early mornings, a pup who hogs the bed and refuses to sleep unless she is cuddled against as much of my body as possible. The chime of midnight texts and early-morning work emails. Dull rolls and sharp cracks of thunder, accompanied by the light show only a summer storm can produce. Announcing “oh, BIG stretch!” every morning as soon as Bou wakes up, her full-body roll and inchworm across my bedroom floor always the first thing that delights me every day.
Summer flavors I only enjoy at home: fresh-picked Minnesota sweet corn, rolled in butter and (my new favorite) everything bagel seasoning. Pretzel buns for chicken and swiss brats. Nectarines, peaches, and tomatoes. Burrata on everything, it seems - Caprese salads, a to-die-for prosciutto and chicken dish, scooped out of a peach salad. A daily smoothie every weekday and a Black Walnut ham and gruyere croissant (accompanied by a Gray Duck iced chai latte, of course) every weekend.
All in all, it’s been a weird and wonderful summer. If anything, this pandemic and the ensuing Minnesota quarantine I’ve been fortunate enough to enjoy have both really made me appreciate the little things - time with my parents, the beauty of outdoor space, the quiet of the suburbs and the sheer expansiveness of the Midwest. I don’t know what the next few months, let alone the next few years, hold for me - but this summer has completely rekindled my love of Minnesota.
