Gathering Up and In

Over the past many days, there has been a dense steamy heat here. It has us toiling in the garden before sunrise and taking early walks with Spencer before the world becomes too hot to potter about in, then spending the day indoors. There are always creations in progress in studio or darkroom, and there is a variety of domestic alchemies to be undertaken in July: processing vegetables for the freezer and making gluten free bread, marshaling quart (liter actually) sealers of pickles, relishes and tomato sauce like legions of foot soldiers and tucking them into the downstairs pantry for next winter. At the end of the day there is tea and a good book, a little Mozart on the sound system, the companionship of clan and kindred spirits.

Huge round bales of hay are everywhere one looks in July, fields of waving wheat and barley and oats. The first gold and cream corn of the season is showing up at roadside stalls and farm gate shops along with cucumbers, beets, purple onions as big as baseballs, tiny new red potatoes and rainbow hued salad makings. Dinner is often a bowl of freshly picked salad or a lightly wokked melange of veggies in every conceivable color, lightly tossed in olive oil and lemon juice or a serendipity invented-on-the-spot dressing with a little curry tossed in to kick things up a notch.

How can we not think of harvest and plenty at the height of summer? How can we not think of the reciprocity of the Old Wild Mother and her generous treatment of us? We in our turn treat this beautiful earth with such utter contempt and thoughtlessness.