Who will you be at the end of the summer?
(Or recovering a little of a life lost)
a solar eclipse a circle in a washtub summer heat –Kobayashi Issa | Translation by David G. Lanoue
Dear Reader,
I am writing to you from inside the Midwestern heat dome that has descended on Chicago these past few days. After complaining for weeks about the slow, chilly spring, we have, of course, gotten summer in full force. I am loving it. As, I love all of the ups and downs of the seasons, wanting to savor each and every extreme and change. I can’t imagine living somewhere where the weather is consistent year-round. How boring!
So, what are you doing with your summer? Despite being long removed from my teenage years, I still think of summer as a time of transition or growth. You return to school in the fall to find out who got taller, weirder, or cooler; what new experiences people had, or friends they made or lost. This summer, I’ve decided instead of discovering something new, I would reclaim something lost. And so, after 28 years, since I first left home for college, I have picked up my flute again.
Through high school, despite knowing that I had no long-term musical ambitions, I was quite serious about it and performed with the local college flute choir until I graduated. (I even have a flute performance to thank for connecting me with my now husband.) I am not sure exactly why I stopped playing, other than my singular focus and obsession with becoming a writer. But, as I remember it, I put my flute away after my senior year ended, and it sat in its case, moving with me from city to city and home to home for decades. Ocassionally, my parents or in-laws would ask if I ever planned to play again, and I have always thought that I would, perhaps in some old lady orchestra. Yet still, my flute sat on the bottom shelf in the basement.
And then, earlier this spring, I had the opportunity to see contemporary dance legend Twyla Tharp’s newest work, which is set to music from Philip Glass that features the flute extensively. I left the performance wondering—what did my middle-aged brain remember, and could I be nearing a tipping point where, if I don’t start to reclaim what it remembers, I might lose it completely?
And so, a few weeks later, on a night when I had the house completely to myself and thus could embarrass myself privately, I went down to the basement and dug out my flute and all the sheet music I could find. Nervously, I assembled my flute and brought it to my lips, which to my great surprise instinctively formed an embouchure. I then gathered my yoga breath and put my fingers where I thought they might go to play a D. And what do you know? It made the sound I remembered, vibrato and all. The scariest part was over—I remembered the mechanics.
Reading music, well, that was a little harder. It took a few days of slowly counting the staff and repeating “Every Good Boy Does Fine” until my brain began to translate the notation with a familiar ease. That first night, I overnighted the same Rubank “Elementary Method” book and fingering chart I remembered using as an eight-year-old child, and since its arrival, I have set out to do one lesson a day.
It has been an incredible marvel of memory to feel a piece of me fill back in. The muscle memory is gradual, but with each passing day, music has become less of a stranger. My mind races to fill in gaps, and my fingers seem to move more and more without my actively willing them to take the shapes. They know what to do without me. And, I am excited to rediscover a part of myself that was once so integral and has been asleep for so long.
As I sign off for a little summer break, I wish the same for you this season. May you find some joy in rediscovering something of yourself that’s been hibernating for too long. It’s not too late, and it’s not lost.
Hope to find you here in August!
—Carrie
This Month’s Recipe: Grilled Pizza in a Pan
Forgive me, but somehow, despite having 40+ pictures of pizza on my phone, I don’t have a photo of this particular recipe. But, it’s perfect for these steamy hot summer nights when turning on the oven feels like a step too far. I’ve heard people rave about the wonders of grilled pizza, but I, for one, could never quite master the timing of cooking dough directly on the grill grates and getting it topped and not making a mess of it. It always felt like a stressful pizza relay race. My solution: give up on the grill marks and get out that trusty Lodge cast-iron skillet, which is strong enough to go right on the grill, and let your grill be your oven.
I am a huge fan of this lazy pizza dough recipe from Smitten Kitchen, which allows you to adapt it to your preferred timing and pizza cravings, and I’ve found that it makes enough for two pan pizzas (so if you only need one, freeze the other half of the dough for another summery night).
Ingredients:
3 cups all-purpose flour
1/8, 1/4, or 1/2 teaspoon active dry yeast (depending on your schedule below)
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1 1/4 cup lukewarm water
Mix the ingredients until you have a slightly sticky dough. Cover the dough (since I avoid plastic wrap, I’ve become a proponent of using plastic shower caps snagged from hotels, which fit snugly over mixing bowls) and let it rise at room temperature until doubled for approximately 22, 12, or 6 hours, depending on the amount of yeast used above.
Preheat your grill to 500-550 degrees Fahrenheit and assemble your pizza in a well-oiled skillet. It should take about 10-15 minutes on the grill, depending on the consistency of the heat.
Upcoming Poetry & Biscuits Reading
Mark your calendars! And send me your ideas for readers!
July 18, 2025: Jenny Browne, MC Hyland,Kristi Maxwell, Dawn Watson, and David Welch
September 26, 2025: Alyx Chandler, Liam Heneghan, Erika Meitner, and Christine Poreba
November 21, 2025: Lily Brown, Joseph Peterson, Donna Vorreyer, and Emma Wood
January 30, 2026: Dawn Tefft, Paul Martinez Pompa, and Sandra Ruiz
I loved reading this post Carrie. For me, summer evokes a lot of restlessness even though I should really be enjoying it. I can't wait to try the pizza dough. Have a good rest.