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It’s hot! It’s the 4th of July! Shall we go to the beach? It’s Virtual Beach, a really good one! Close your eyes, can you hear the waves rolling in? Can you smell the sea? See the sparkling water? Go ahead, take off your shoes, let your toes wiggle in the sand. The gulf stream goes around the island, the water is warm; you can kick it up when you walk! Feel the wind blowing by your ears? See the little birds running in and out of the water? Aren’t they funny? Here! Here’s a cucumber sandwich — crunch-crunch, isn’t it delicious, isn’t the bread soft? Hear the terns and gulls swooping and diving? The horizon goes on forever, oh! and now, look! The sun is setting over the water. Everyone just naturally wants to hold the memory of days like this and never let go.

So we bring it home, in the form of rocks and shells; beach glass and bits of drift wood. Even though Joe and I walk out to the beach almost every day, it never ever gets old, it’s always different out there, and we still almost always bring home something, because we collect memories just like everyone else, even though we live down the block from it. Our window sills are lined with our “finds” — check out my favorite green heart-shaped beach glass — or Joe’s pride and joy, the little red heart-shaped brick, all rolled and soft from the sea.

My landlocked girlfriend in California made a small writing studio in an old shed in her backyard — and to her, this is the beach — in fact, it’s Martha’s Vineyard right in her own backyard. She’s made a cottage out of it, painted it sea blue inside, and filled it with beach things she’s collected over the years when she’s here; bowls of beach glass and beautiful little perfectly formed shells; she has beach photos, beach paintings, beach fabric on pillows and chairs, and a jar of Martha’s Vineyard sand. Colored lights are draped over the door; she’s made magic right in her own back yard.

In this photo, → I’m coming down the stairs, that’s beach glass on the lintel over the dining room door. We hunt for new places to put it!

I cleaned my hurricane lamp yesterday, and rebuilt it with Martha’s Vineyard sand as the base for a new candle. Next time you are on vacation, bring along a baggie, get some sand from a beach you love; make yourself a windproof backyard table light to remind you of carefree walks by the sea.

← There’s everything you need. You might want to sift through and clean the sand a bit before putting it in your container.

Make a well in the sand for the candle, use tongs to arrange shells around the candle, the way you want them. Plop in a candle, deep enough so the wind can’t get it.

Right now, my studio window is open, Joe is puttering in the barn, making a new rain gutter for the house, every so often I hear the saw. He has a boom box out there so I can hear the music playing …it’s La Mer … since we are celebrating summer and the sea, I think you might want to hear it? Oui? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fd_nopTFuZA

We’ll be heading to our favorite little beach tonight for sunset. From there we can see fireworks in the distance — they go off in all the small towns along the shore of Cape Cod.

God bless America. How will you celebrate? xoxo

Here’s a July bookmark for your cookbooks or your beach reads…click on it, and you’ll get it on a PDF that you can print out on card stock. Happy July! And speaking of ambrosia under a tree . . .

I think you can revise that quote to say, “Bread and butter is ambrosia eaten under twinkle lights.” Twinkle lights in the garden are probably more important than the food! A little magic is a good thing! This was last night, we had a 4th of July party in the backyard.

The menu was basic and all American; steak and salmon from the grill and my favorite Spareribs and Juice (pineapple juice! …make ahead and delicious, p. 101 Vineyard Seasons); that sparerib juice went so well cuddled next to the cold rice salad I already told you about (scroll down if you want that recipe); we had a huge green salad from the garden with orange balsamic dressing; and then, the coup de grace, my dad’s garlic bread (he melts butter and throws in lots of thinly sliced garlic — not minced or crushed, heaven forbid, that would break his garlic bread rules — he brushes it on slices of French bread, making sure to get garlic on each piece and broils it until brown and toasty, just on the buttered side–piles it in a basket lined with a dish towel which he wraps around the bread to keep it warm). For dessert we had raspberries, strawberries and blueberries in lots of syrup with whipped cream; all red, white, and blue… under the twinkle lights and the stars . . . normal food, but ambrosia under a tree, under the twinkle lights. Where’s a better place for a picnic than your own back yard…no crowds, no traffic, laughing til midnight, and bed right at the top of the stairs. Sing with me: But uh-oh, those summer nights, uh-wella-wella-huh! Tell me more, tell me more, like does he have a car . . .

Come with me, to the sea, to the sea, the sea of Love

Went to a Garden Party . . .