I have this vision of summer. Long, twilit evenings spent outdoors. A cold glass of wine, some fairy lights. There’s music playing in the background. The kids are running around. There’s laughter, and good conversation, and the air is cool. We linger over dinner. The food is delightful — refreshing, light, playful. And then, since nobody wants to leave, we cap off the evening with dessert. Nothing too sweet or too heavy. Just a little something sweet, something light, something fun.

Summer should be FUN.

The reality of summer doesn’t always match my vision. Childhood doesn’t prepare you for the hard, cold, reality that most jobs don’t offer a summer vacation. My summer evenings are often spent in the car, in a long sweaty slog through traffic. I come home to a house that’s 90 degrees (in my fantasy life, I often forget that summer is HOT), and decide whether to open the windows, letting the dubious cooling effects of outside air rush into the house, along with flies, stinkbugs, and of course, mosquitoes, or whether to close off the outdoors, turn on the air conditioning, and cocoon. And get bitten my mosquitoes anyway. Friends are busy, or out of town, and dinner is a ham sandwich, as that’s just about all Nuni will eat these days. Summer reality has its joys – ripe tomatoes from the garden, and the twilights are long. We do eat outdoors. But my reality is that summer also has its aggravations, and isn’t any more fun than any of the other four seasons.

At least dessert can still be fun, right?

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