Gluten-Free Blueberry Crumble-Crisp Recipe

It's no news to you, Darling, that summer is officially here. The longest day of the calendar year has come and gone- with June now a memory. And blueberries are shyly making their post solstice appearance in the northern states. The kindest season is far too brief. As the Bard of Avon once penned, Summer's lease hath all too short a date.

If you must skip to the recipe- do so now-- who am I to hold you back, to deny you even one more minute of partaking in this (rather modest) indulgence? But I confess, I am in a waxing mood today. And feeling lost in thought daydreams. Balancing opposites. I believe in the here and now (more than the promise of ever-after). Not that ever-after doesn't hold enduring charms. The swath we name eternity is threaded through and through with everyday blinks as brief as a silk worm's life. Which, as it turns out, is perilously close to a single, fleeting summer.

In my view, if I am honest with myself and paying attention, eternity can be found inside a June. Within a child's hand clasp. Echoed in a tea cup. All that I long for, wish for, dream of, has already happened, this I know.

In some far off starlit part of me that remains forever untouchable and true, eternity is happening now, and breathes within the tiny beating bud of even my fears and pain. It knows no boundaries, or Gregorian demarcation. It is patient. And full of music.

I see it flicker in my sons' eyes.

This gift of time.

And the moment I spot it, it is already gone, light years away, clean and immaculate.

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