The first few weeks of summer are glorious: full afternoons to spend outside at the park or in the pool, cold watermelon slices and tomato sandwiches and frosty beverages never far away; firefly-flecked twilight hours made for huddling around the campfire, anticipating all the season's possibilities (and s'mores); grand visions for the bike trips and road trips and adventures that will ensue; fond anticipation for all the ice-cream cones to be had before they melt, all the sunburns to gently nurse with aloe and cream.
But then July and August inevitably roll around, and the pleasant stickiness turns, well, unpleasant. In those dog days, hot, thick air seems to stand still no matter which direction the wind blows. Cooking—let alone mustering up an appetite!—is an energy-sapping, sweat-inducing chore. The siren song of crisp, cool autumn beckons. For all those days, there's soup.