There is a lightness, an airy quality to the food we ingest these days. The summer foods remind me to eat close to the vine. Before the pickling and freezing and canning and baking into things, we eat the food that replenishes the memory of what food we ought to be eating. Those perfect vitamins and water and minerals growing in our midst refresh our memory of summer's light that we can draw on later.
I won't visit you this month. You won't call. I will raid your garden and you won't get any of the vegetables. I will make plans without telling you about them. We'll go to the store and not buy you one single thing. Whole books will be read and I will not tell you which ones. I will watch movies and not inform you. The nasturiums will ripen. Last month was different. I changed my schedule and took time off work to be with you. I dropped all kinds of plans for us to be together. You sent me messages, I received them. I picked up food that I thought you would like at the store and sent you pictures of every beautiful thing I saw. I sang with you. We watched the Great Canadian Baking Show. You chose the recipe for the garlic scape pesto and gave me instructions for making the gooseberry jam. I am in August without you. You are in July.
beautifully said. !
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