Summer is in full bloom here on the prairie and with it, as every year, come back memories of my childhood almost always spent with either set of grandparents. They are my fondest memories from my childhood and interestingly they have something in common- a kind of freedom provided by the old and the wise in my family.

My maternal grandmother had a large farm with grain fields, animals, orchards and a vegetable patch. Needless to say she and my grandpa were very, very busy people. They almost never had time for us, myself and my countless cousins, not in the traditional sense at least. They always knew where we were, they always provided us with food but usually our days were spent in the very way we kids wanted. My grandparents never inteferred into our activities unless they were asked for help with something, they never forced us into doing anything unless it was Sunday church but even that wasn't really forcing because it was simply something that everyone did on that particular day. Just like having chicken soup for lunch, it was just there. It was an invaluable way for me to grow up as the rest of the year would be spent in a big capital city full of noise, dirt and general lack of spontaneity, the kind that countryside always suggests to me.

My other set of grandparents lived in a city so summers there were , you'd think, completely different, and yet they too were able to provide me with unlimited freedom albeit we only had two rooms to live in. My paternal grandparents taught me a lot, and I mean taught in the traditional sense, with face time and instruction, explaining, taking to places and showing things. My grandpa would take me to the forest to forage, to show how to find and recognize mushrooms, berries, and them dry them at home or turn into jams. We learned to play cards, read, embroider, tweak with tools, and that was a natural extension of the surroundings which we were confined to, the infamous 1-bedroom apartment they still live in now. My grandmother, a cook at a hospital, taught me how to cook by letting me observe first and then slowly including me in all her activities finally ending with allowing me to make an entire dinner by myself. And I was 9 years old at the time! I bet she was sitting in the living room, biting her fingernails with anticipation- did she burn her hair yet? will the food be at all edible? At least that's what I'm assuming...

What are the fondest memories of your childhood? What kind of attitude do you remember that's worth replicating in your parenting style? What was it that you remember hating about being younger, the treatment you received?

I was recently thinking about all of this and I can say that basically it all distills into being free, being set loose physically and mentally to climb the trees in the garden and in my head, with a watchful eye of the loving adult behind the window.

I couldn't end without giving you another recipe, this time for a summer soup.

SOUR CHERRY SOUP
serves 4

1 tbsp plain flour
4 fl oz/ 1/2 cup sour cream
generous pinch of salt
1 tsp caster sugar (beige unrefined sugar from Mauritius)
8oz/ 1 1/2 cups fresh sour or morello cherries, stoned (sorry but canned or frozen cherries simply won't do)
1 1/2 pints/ 3 3/4 cups water
2oz/ 1/4 cups sugar

Blend the flour with the sour cream; add salt, caster sugar.

Cook the cherries in the water with the sugar. Gently poach for about 10 minutes. Remove from the heat and set aside 2 tbsp of the cooking liquid for garnish. Stir another 2 tbsp of the cherry liquid into the flour and sour cream mixture then pour this onto the cherries.

Return to the heat. Bring to a boil then simmer for 5-6 minutes.

Remove from the heat, cover with plastic wrap and leave to cool. Add extra salt if necessary. Serve with a little cooking liquid swirled in.

This is a cold summer soup in the same tradition as cold cucumber and yoghurt tarator from Bulgaria, tzatziki in Greece, beet and cream chlodnik in Poland and Lithuania.

Smacznego!