(readaloud here: https://leorawien.substack.com/p/readaloud-of-watermelon?r=dypcn&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=email
During the most recent heat wave, I cradled a frozen watermelon wedge the size of a baby on my lap. The day before, I had scooped out a cup-sized crater from the top. The melon was now frozen, and I poured heavy cream slowly into the crater. I watched as the white edges of the cream froze slick up against the frozen red fruit. With a soup spoon, I began to scrape the border of where the cream met the fruit. Scraping and scraping my own ice cream. Using my full arm all the way up to my bicep, elbow lifted, like a cave woman.
What is my cave woman name? What is your cave woman name? What kind of scraping would a cave woman do? Moss of off just-gathered branches? Innards off of hides? Ash off of burnt fish or fowl?
What is my cave woman name? I am liking her. I want to scrape my own watermelon ice cream for the rest of my days.
The flavor is divine. And, yes, has the delicious ingredient of feral effort.
The flavor is divine. And, yes, has the delicious ingredient of feral effort. The watermelon rested in a large sauce pan on my lap. The overhead fan swirled, trying its best to cool me off. There is no Freon here. There is no “air conditioning”. I will need to improve my own conditions. My neighbors across the way probably see me. A woman in undies on her couch, cradling a huge pan in her lap, scraping away at a huge melon filled with cream. My neighbors outside could probably hear me. Scrape, scrape, scrape. “What is she doing up there?” It can be ten scrapes until a single scoop of watermelon ice cream is accumulated.
What is my cave woman name? What is your cave woman name? She sits, doing what she needs to do to survive the elements. This is a day to wear fewer pelts. This is a day to just hold on to what feels like a comforting block of ice. This is what the day will be all about.
This is a day to wear fewer pelts.
A soup spoon is an incredible tool. At the beginning, I was still holding it at the edge of the handle. Like, for hot soup. But it is not that season. The melon is frozen so cold. So I hold the spoon at the nape, just above the bowl. After the first full scoop of ice cream, as the fruit begins to melt, the tool gets slippery. So I start to hold the bowl itself. Like a ceramicist holds the curved semicircular “pottery rib” tool. And really, it gets messier from there, what with the slurry from the cream and warming watermelon ice crystals. The spoon’s bowl just becomes flush with the palm of my own hand. So I’m scooping my ice cream in the palm of my hand.
I keep the watermelon baby in the freezer. It keeps me cool when the days are too hot. It feeds me delicious two-ingredient ice cream. I can put it on my lap, and get what I need.
What is my cave woman name? What is your cave woman name? Are your biceps growing stronger, too? What is smeared on the walls of your cave? Are you drawing with pink watermelon ice cream juice? Or fragrant black ash?
