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An ode to summer delights

Last summer was my first season in Whistler, and practically everyone I met made a point of reassuring me, with the same worried facial expression, that the weather is usually much better.

Last summer was my first season in Whistler, and practically everyone I met made a point of reassuring me, with the same worried facial expression, that the weather is usually much better. Well, fast-forward to one year later: after four consecutive days of lakeside bliss in 30 plus degree temperatures and an unwavering sun, you can call me convinced.

But in the summertime heat, strange things can happen to your appetite — it can entirely disappear during the days, only to return with ravenous consequences in the evening. A dreamy afternoon brainstorming session with friends resulted in the following attempt at poetry:

 

The first real weekend of summer has passed;

Now, can we all breathe a collective sigh?

After basking in the warm glow of the sun,

It’s time for a bite of strawberry rhubarb pie.

 

Load up your shopping cart with fresh, fragrant fruit:

Black pitted cherries that stain fingers red,

Sweet watermelon loaded with seeds to spit,

Or succulent peaches and strawberries, instead.

 

And don’t forget your veggies:

Sweet peaches and cream corn on the cob,

Glowing golden with butter and a dusting of salt,

Gnawing on one of these is a serious job.

 

Those vine-ripened, ruby red tomatoes,

Straight from Pemberton fields,

So juicy and fresh, they eat like a meal,

Are just one of this season’s crop yields.

 

Hidden in the confines of that wicker picnic basket,

Is fresh potato salad, and sandwiches, sans crust,

Cheeses, crisp chips and trail mix;

For a balmy afternoon hike, these are all a must.

 

Take a stroll through the farmer’s market,

And make sure your wallet and change purse are handy;

You’re going to want to pick up some pastries,

Fresh popcorn and super sweet cotton candy.

 

Of course, there’s the trusty barbecue;

Ribs, shish kabobs, burgers, hot dogs and wings,

Marinated or brushed with sticky, spicy sauce,

These are a few favoured grillin’ things.

 

Make a trip to your pick of patios in the village,

If you’re too toasted to cook;

Nothing beats a $5 dollar burger and a pitcher of beer,

Any cheaper, you’d feel like a bit of a crook.

 

An overnight excursion into the woods simply isn’t complete,

Without an ice-cold beer by the campfire,

Roasting marshmallows on a stick to a light golden brown,

To make hot, gooey s’mores before you retire.

 

In the morning, wake up and light the Coleman grill,

Heat up that trusty old frying pan,

Chuck on some eggs and a big slab of bacon,

And feast on a breakfast made for a man.

 

After a hard day of fishing at the spit on Green Lake,

It’s finally time to cook up your catch;

Put the fish in some tinfoil with lemon and butter,

Open the propane valve and toss in a match.

 

Dip into your cooler — or “Esky” to you Aussies —

During an afternoon roasting on the shore of the lake,

For your favourite flavour of Freezie or Popsicle,

Or a fresh scoop of gelato — the true icing on the cake.

 

Wash it all down with fresh squeezed lemonade,

Frozen blended coffee, a tangy sangria,

A Slurpee with a little something extra added,

Or how about a simple sake margarita?

 

Ah, the fresh tastes of summer,

Cool, fresh, and light,

You’re all but forgotten 10 months out of the year,

But in blazing hot sunshine, you just seem so right.