And The Winds Shifted- Harvesting Fall 2010

The house is permeated with fresh melon's sweet syrup, the sink full of rainbow chard larger than my torso and cucumbers that Little Jack Corner's plumbs wouldn't dare compete with. The refrigerator is painted with tomatoes, peppers and eggplant and the air outside heralds the coming of fall.

This is Vermont right now, this is home. I awoke this morning to a sky brightened to an aquamarine blue and dotted with clouds highlighted with the sun's magnificent golden glow. The wind was blowing through the quaking aspens who were waving their leaves to all the morning creatures.

After having gone for a walk, it occurred to me that we are at the cusp of summer turning to fall. Of warm southerly winds shifting to crisp, chilly, sweater- and- tea inducing temperatures. Our natural instincts ready to switch over to root vegetables and warm stews and pies. Trees are adorned with sparkling, red crab apples and golden rod is at its peak, while all the while the Staghorn sumac has already begun its transformation from bright green to scarlet red, sunny yellow and crimson orange (if such a color exists :)

Yesterday, I helped harvest red and orange habanero peppers at the University of Vermont's Horticultural Farm- Common Grounds. The plants were standing there, like pregnant women days before giving birth, aching to be relieved of the weight of their elegant, beautiful and perfectly shaped babies. From every stalk there hung a firm pepper, each one's body shaded uniquely with oranges, reds and yellows. As my hand reached in to the thicket of plants to harvest, the pepper bodies would knock together and make sounds that reminded me of wooden chimes knocking in the wind. All around me from where I stood, grew not just peppers, but marbleized eggplants of an heirloom variety that I had never seen before, massive blood red peppers, tomatoes, sweet corn, rich melons and...multitudes of apples.

I feel compelled to now mention, with the height of the summer harvest, comes the welcoming of the beginning of the fall crops. While the tomato plants are bending over from the weight of their cargo, the winter squashes are just getting ready to reach maturity, the apples are enticing us to pick them from their thick branches and the pumpkins are competing to grow large in their patches. Hubbard squashes and gourds are beginning to poke their faces out from underneath their over sized leaves and even the beans are still coming, betting with one another who will be put raw into a salad or who will be made into the ever-loved "dilly bean"?

When we cook applesauce this season, the soft bubbles will make their way out of the pot and the air will be infused with the apples' natural incense: the perfect ratio of sour and sweet. The biggest butcher knives come out from hiding to tackle all of the overgrown root vegetables and the canning jars emerge for the undertaking of pickling and jelly making.

This is nothing short of a miracle. Therefore, I must say to you, we live in a miracle.

Food is life. And life's magnificence, subsequently, is greatly dependent on food. Since I lived on the ecovillage this summer, my relationship and connection with food has changed dramatically.
My body and soul have done a complete 360 recently as, having experienced on the ecovillage, I have come to take my time to prepare and eat my meals. It's quite ridiculous as a matter of fact, to not be able to finish my first meal of the day, breakfast, in under 30 minutes, but it really can't be done, nor do I want it to be done any more quickly than that. It's a time to take in the essence of the world that lies before us and within us.

How about this. Have you ever eaten a toasted almond and been transported to an old musty library with wood flooring and book shelves made from deep oak? Have you crunched on a piece of fresh lettuce (I mean fresh, straight from the ground you walk on) drizzled in olive oil and apple cider vinegar and felt a sweeping rush of what it feels like when you run through a wet field of grasses and wheat in mid summer? Or how about have you ever chewed on a clump of freshly cooked brown rice, only to soak up its naturally chewy coating and absorb its juicy, tender nectar? If you haven't- then please try it and you'll know what I mean and if you have, then you already understand when I say that our relationship to food can, and I believe should be, so deep and so personal that it's nearly impossible to explain.

It's in our hands and our decisions to choose what goes into out mouths, ultimately, to choose what our souls will be nourished with. I believe that we are pulled to our core and back to our essence when we find that part within us, the part that exists there for everyone, that is deeply rooted in our ancestral lives of food growing, preparation, respect and enjoyment. Rich spices, chopping up the freshest of foods, so fresh they sound like a symphony on the cutting board, boiling rices and grains and watching the bubbles froth over the top, chewing, creating, nourishing and loving.

With delightfully cold feet and nose holding a hot cup of tea, open and ready to learn and experience all that's to come this fall season,
Yours truly,
Rebekah
"...and as the winds shifted, her hair blew northward and steam rose from the hot cup of tea straight to the horizon. Pumpkins, apple pies and fortitude were ready to come to life."