We live our busy lives, contrived or real, when one day
something startling and almost crushing stops the noisy spin and like walking
into a transforming mist, we are thrust into a mysterious zone. That something
for me recently was the sudden illness of a beloved one. The illness has taken
weeks to level out and though now life has changed, the new activities
surrounding have become part of our everyday to-do lists.
In that time summer ended quickly and now we enter the
desert days of pre-fall. Ahh. The harvest has turned from the short visit of tomatoes
to the snap of crisp apples. Whatever didn’t get done in preserving will have
to wait until next year, we hope.
Hope is the thing. Philosophers hang their hats on Hope,
telling us in sweet words to believe and never waiver. The philosophers’ poetry
is becoming more difficult to accept as our vast intricate communications show
us seemingly hopeless situations.
Exiting the illness zone for a day or two, I did manage
to “put up” a few jars of pickles – sweet butter pickles and exotic dills.
Shining in the spice cupboard, these glass jars are a physical symbol of hope
and the anticipation of meals enhanced in future days with the gift of spiced
vinegar.
I hope you can enjoy the adventure of this year’s harvest. I’m looking
for an easy, tasty, moist fall fruit bread – squash or pumpkin, apple or pear.
If you have a good bread recipe to share please let me know.Thanks to all who have made comment in person about the stories shared in A Homestead Decade, HowCrunchy Granola Changed My Life. And thanks for your patience in the delay of this blog while we made our way through the mysterious zone.
Love,
Helene, author of A Homestead Decade, How CrunchyGranola Changed My Life
www.chicagoroadpublishing.com
