It's mid-July in Connecticut, when the upstairs is far too hot for sleeping comfortably, so there are happy sleep-overs in the few air conditioned spaces. The trees scream all afternoon with the insects keeping time with waves of heat. No baking. No way.  The only cooking that happens happens on the stove top or grill. But the Queen Anne's Lace are brilliantly wrought, and compete with the ever-darkening, widening, multiplying bruises of hydrangeas. And our wine berries are ripe and this year, quite flavorful.



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