Zen and the Perfect Bubble

It’s getting late and still so hot, it will be the wee hours before any cooling air whatsoever. I’m trying to decide whether to turn on the air conditioning or just wait it out for that middle-of-the-night breeze. The way I’m carry on about the heat, it’s a mystery how I grew up in the South without air conditioning.

Actually, I recall the sweltering summers of childhood as one big, outdoor party. Without the schedule that school imposed, there was time to play endless games of jacks, jump rope, swim, climb trees, ride bicycles, swing, hop scotch, read and blow bubbles.

Unlike activities that divided the girls from the boys, or games the youngest children weren’t allowed to join, bubble blowing was fun for everyone.

little girl blowing bubbles_cropped 1953 Water Appears and Disappears

Learning to blow a great bubble took lots of practice. And by great, I mean a bubble that didn’t pop right away, that was perfectly round and shiny with color.

The very qualities of a soap bubble that mesmerize make it among the most fascinating forms in Nature. This website is devoted to the soap bubble, its history, science, art and magic!

A homemade bubble blowing brew is a simple combination of 2 1/2 quarts water, 1 cup Dawn or Joy dish detergent and 1/2 cup light corn syrup (find it in the baking aisle) or glycerin (purchase at a drugstore). Mix ingredients in a plastic dish pan. Store leftover bubble mixture in a clean jar with a lid. Blowers can be made out of pipe cleaners.

Blowing bubbles is such joy, I figured there must be enough bubble poetry to comprise an entire book. Surprisingly, there are few bubble poems, and what there is, is directed to children.

But for one:

Bubbles by Carl Sandburg (1878-1967)

Two bubbles found they had rainbows on their curves.

They flickered out saying:

“It was worth being a bubble just to have held that

rainbow thirty seconds.”

Reading this poem has me forgetting how g-dawful this heat is and instead, remembering an innocence, when blowing a perfect bubble was the order of the day.


Tie One On…an apron, of course!

Waiting on Field Fresh

Last week-end up in Denver, we took in the Cherry Creek Arts Festival. Strolling up one block and down the next, we came upon a culinary student demonstrating watermelon carving.

So there we are, surrounded by exquisite glass, fiber, ceramics, paintings and the like, and we’re

Watermelon Carving

mesmerized by the art of fruit carving, which is a far cry from the hollowed out watermelon basket filled with melon balls that we’re used to!

Standing there in the hot, hot sun, I ached for a piece of chilled melon.

Summertime is all about watermelon. In this snapshot taken around 1915, a Boy Scout troop on a camp out takes a watermelon break. The boy in the trio at the bottom left, with a quarter of a melon in his face, is my dad.

Blog_Watermelon_Daddy (Medium)

Watermelon is the best treat when eaten outdoors, even to the Victorians, who were particularly fond of picnics. Perhaps because it gave them a rare opportunity to socialize without all the formality.

Watermelon_Women 1900 (Medium)

Watermelon reminds me of sweltering August evenings, when my dad would bring home a pick-up of watermelons, and every house on the block would empty of kids and parents, all of us waiting our turn to receive a thick slice, which we’d take to the curb, and sitting side by side, arms sticky with melon juice and legs akimbo, spit seeds between our knees and into the street.

The watermelon crop in my area is still a few weeks from coming in. While I wait for “field fresh,” I’m partial to the Pixie because it doesn’t take up half the refrigerator, it’s seedless and tastes as sweet as its name.

Plus, when I hold Pixie just so, it resembles a little purse… Watermelon Apron (Medium)a most adorable accessory to my melon feed sack apron.

If you’ve not yet signed up for the Apron Memories newsletter, please do! The latest edition includes watermelon poetry & a vintage watermelon recipe, + you’re automatically entered in my Sunday celebration giveaways. Yay to that!


Tie One On…an apron, of course!