We are in the abundance of summer. Festivals bring tourists to town every week: jazz, blues, a writing conference, and more. The air crackles with energy. This is a town that loves to play, and there are more sandboxes to play in than there is time to do so. This year we tried out The American Fiddle Tunes Festival, which we missed last year, and had a grand time.
Hubby is in rehearsals for Much Ado About Nothing, where he has his first-ever named part. The town will continue to operate at this frenetic pace until fall and the Film Festival…then will start to wind down (although Hallowe’en seems to jazz people up around here).
Meanwhile, our next-door neighbor’s three cherry trees, which seem to yield enough to feed an army, plus birds and deer, are at the end of their time. We picked what we could, gorging ourselves and freezing the rest. My new blueberry plants have provided a handful or so of fresh berries each day and should do much more as the plants grow and mature. In the vegetable garden, I’m seeing the last of the sweet peas, while zucchini and corn are on their way.
Living in season, we embrace ebbs and flows. In the spring, we rejoice as the cherry blossoms bloom, and each week we walk by the trees, we see the cherries develop, first green, then slowly changing color. Our mouths water with anticipation. Now, with the cherries over and done for another year, the plums are next. I’ve eaten the first one, ripe, sweet, and with juices that ran down my hand. Figs, apples, and pears are on their way. We say hello, we say goodbye. There is delight in the former, and sadness tinged with sweet memory in the latter. We let go of the convenience of year-round (but tasteless) produce in favor of the longing, the waiting as though for a lover who has been away.
As I become more tuned to nature, I feel her cycles within me, too. I start to understand my ebbs and flows. Some days I have more energy than others. Sometimes I am productive, sometimes not. I am happy, I am not. I sleep, or I don’t. Instead of seeing these as good or bad, they are just interesting. I am like a tree that blooms, bears fruit, then rests.