garlic fingers

The last couple of days here in Gaspe have been absolutely beautiful. The summer weather we’ve been waiting for since last October is finally here! It’s been hot, but not too hot. Not much wind. Beautiful evening beach weather – the kind where when you get to the beach, you still feel like swimming – with the seals who are spying on you, and the whales who are popping up a couple hundred metres off shore. Aaaah, the first days of summer – August 18 and 19!

THIS kind of weather.

And who’s back in her stinky, sweaty, cinderblock office?

Yeah. Me. 14 months of maternity leave – POOF! over.

I’ll try not to complain too much, cause other than the office part I do have the best job on the planet, and before you know it I’ll be chillin’ (literally) with students on the amazing rivers around here, but it is kinda a bummer that I find myself making photocopies in the bread-oven-they-call-a-sports-pavillion and staring at the World’s Slowest Computer for hours on end while summer has a party outside my window.

Today, however, I opted to enjoy the incredible morning that was dropped on my doorstep, over rushing off to an 8 o’clock teachers’ breakfast and subsequent lecture on Generation C (Yeah, I thought we were in GenY, too – apparently it’s the same thing… just a different letter, cause we’re in Quebec).

Frida, Manny and I strolled down to the beach and checked out the local heron gang on the sandspit, ate a few raspberries and collected rocks and rusty nails.

And then, before going to work/daycare, we tiptoed barefoot through the too-long grass to the garden and pulled up our first-ever garlic harvest. It’s been raining so much that I was prepared for a mushy, rotten, garlicky disaster but they pulled up beautifully. Big, smelly bulbs are now curing in our hammock chair under the birch tree while I cross my fingers that it won’t rain before I can get a roof over their stinky heads.

Frida took a “baby” bulb and its stalk to daycare today and gave it to the cook to use in the day’s meals. We both went to school with dirty fingers that smelled like garlic. Perfect for picking those leftover chocolatines off the tray at the breakfast.

I DID make it to the conference on GenC/Y (which was surprisingly very interesting), ran around like crazy all day, then picked up Frida, her buddy Fay, a couple pints of  Pit Caribou Blanche and a bag o’ chips and headed out to the beach for a dip and a picnic with a good friend who I haven’t seen in a while.

The drive home under the stars had me feeling like as crazy as things might be when you have a full-time job and two kids and a dog and a house and a garden, there are still a lot of magic moments to be had in a day, as long as you don’t mind feeding your kid chips for dinner.

*ok, PS,  Generation C is not the same as Gen Y, for those of you who didn’t take the time to follow the link. It’s kinda cool actually: you can DECIDE to be Gen C if you want, even if you are an “aged” gen X’er like me!  But the lecturer today, he really did say that they were the same, except that in Quebec we say “Generation C”. With a french accent.

PPS the roof has appeared over the stinky heads of the garlic and also the 40-or-so pounds of potatoes we dug up today. Here’s to being a pack rat : I never threw out that old tent even though I only have the fly and the groundsheet. I KNEW it would come in handy some day!frida n taters__

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