Albeit a little early.
I’m looking out the kitchen window, thinking about tomorrow’s cooler temps, and daydreaming over my bowl of batter. The summer lilies have lost their bloom, and the maples are already turning. It’s at this point that I realize – perhaps fully, for the first time – what The Harvest means. For me, anyhow.
I’m putting a batch of zucchini bread in the oven, and I’ll be making another tomorrow. Zukes abound in these parts. I took an enormous salad (homegrown lettuce, parsley, basil, tomatoes, onions, boiled eggs from the hens) to a gathering at a neighbor’s home last week. Our church hall sports bushels full of gorgeous vegetables each Sunday. Workplace desks around town are fairly loaded with squash and lettuce.
This is one of my favorite things about living in a place full of gardeners – the sharing. Of course, this is all part of something larger – the rural/small town tradition of lending-a-hand and being neighborly. Of truly being in a place with each other. I think the late Summer and early Fall sharing season brings that collective way of life into very clear focus.
My neighbor just gave me some huge zukes, which combined with some flour, sugar, spices, and fresh eggs will become zucchini bread for our Wine Night tomorrow evening. (We all bring a wine we want the others to try.) I’m going to make him an extra loaf of bread to take home. That’s a pretty nifty metaphor to boil it all down to.
“Give me a few of those zukes, neighbor; and I’ll make you dessert. And we’ll have some wine.”
You have a great day too!