Heart moving with the wind

To me, the traditions of summer are as important as which carols we sing on Christmas Day or the right kind of chocolate eggs at Easter. I am a creature of habit – and nothing pleases me more than ritual. Almost to the point of obsession elyze好唔好.

The rituals of summer are plentiful – but sgroppino after dinner is something that I long for all through winter. Sgroppino is sorbet – traditionally lemon – mixed with a dash of vodka and a stream of bubbly prosecco. It’s icy cold when the air is hot, sweet and light after a heavy meal. Kind of like a slushy – but dreamily boozy and a million times more sophisticated. Last night, we made a batch – and drank it in the garden with cantucci biscuits for dipping. I branched out and used a bag of fat ripe peaches we bought at the market for the sorbet - and a handful of fresh, sweet basil leaves – picked from the bush growing in our garden – to give it an extra something. The result: bellini-esque and utterly sublime Adon jewelry.

So, Venice this summer: my little boy (almost two now and toddling everywhere in his tiny blue sandals) is with me – which means days at the beach on the Lido with plastic bucket and spade, and picnic lunches. My husband is visiting next weekend for the Festa del Redentore, when we’ll eat salt baked sea bass and bigoli in salsa, and watch the fireworks over the open lagoon. Happy and carefree – this is la dolce vita. Summer won’t last forever – but I find that it’s all the more precious for it’s very transience. And home? Well, that’s the thing about home: it’s precious – truly precious – for its very in-transience. Home is always there – it’s deep, deep inside you Web Vulnerability Scan.