Patio Party

Tuesday night we had a dinner party on the patio.

As the blanket of the day's heat started to fold back to the cool of the evening, as the sun set behind the house, as the stars overhead began to twinkle, we enjoyed the company of three good friends; time slowed and the laughter was set free.

The conversation danced from a report from the CiRCE conference that was attended (not, alas, by me. "Next year in Dallas" is my cry), to the health of parents (one guest could not be there because of an emergency hospital visit by her mom), to books we are reading, to death and burial from Orthodox and Protestant perspectives. It was a strange assortment of topics, but it somehow seemed right as we relaxed more and more under the purple umbrellas and the twinkle lights.

And, yes, we ate. Salad with steamed beets in balsamic vinegar, baguettes, pork tenderloin with apricot and rosemary sauce, fingerling potatoes, stir-fried beans and peppers, and a plum frangipane tart (ala mode, thank you very much.) We slowed it all down, let the conversation fill in the waiting moments between courses, and it all worked beautifully. It was a pleasure to make food for dear friends.

Our backyard is very ordinary. It is a slab of cement with its share of blemishes in this corner and that. The lattice that is designed to hide the dump pile is always falling apart and calling attention to itself, and the mint green whale of a propane tank is nothing but ugly. But all we do is sweep up and move the trash cans around the corner, and we are ready for a party. A few table cloths, a few rows of twinkle lights, and we can set the stage for rich fellowship and great food. It is one of my favorite things in the world to do.