It’s 7:20 pm, and I’ve just finished a bunch of yard chores that I began around 4:00 this afternoon. During that time, Priscille and I picked a second batch of wild raspberries – it’s a bumper crop this year: A pint of those is destined for our friend, S.B., who deserves a lot more from life than merely that. But it’s the thought that will accompany the gift, and we wish our friend nothing but good blessings.
Now, before you conclude that I’m getting far too syrupy, I need to disclose that I’m on the patio, quenching my well-deserved thirst with a bottle of Saranac Hefeweizen Wheat Ale, purchased as part of a 12-bottle, summer variety pack, at the Super Saver on Route 22 East in Somerville, next to Post Hardware.
My wife is quenching her own thirst with a bottle of Bud Light Lime: “Everything in moderation,” my Mom was fond of reminding me. Just think of all the good things in life that turn into sour experiences through abuse. Drinking to excess is, in this case, the obvious example.
Beer has a long history and tradition. Some researchers claim that it was first brewed thousands of years ago in Egypt. Pilgrims, of all people, brought its process with them when they settled in New England. It makes sense, because potable water could go bad on a long sea voyage and become contaminated, whereas the alcoholic content in the sudsy brew would keep it drinkable for a longer period of time. At least that’s what I’m told. I’ll raise a glass to that.
One of us will drop off your raspberries, S.B. Hope you enjoy them.
Ah, summer . . . . What a good season.
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