Thursday 19 September 2013

SEPTEMBER 19.1

        I've been spending my extra time doing extra things, such as taking cold, soggy sheets off tomato and basil plants, or stirring tomato sauce (the aroma fills the house with redness), or just foraging through the garden for sneaky zucchini and peas and cucumbers that survived the FIRST FROST.
       Yesterday, I found several yellow zucchini - they have been prolific this season - but decided to leave the ones that have grown to gargantuan sizes. Now that the leaves are withering, they are suddenly. . .  but wait, I have just been interrupted by a loud thump at the window. A partridge, perhaps? They often hit our windows in the fall; they are flying into the light or hopped up on fermented wild grapes. Yup, it left an imprint but was not severely damaged - or worse. Here is what 'worse' looks like:
      This one's in the freezer. Featherless and gutless. I'm not a bird fan, but it's a beautiful bird. Or maybe, it's just that nature's a beautiful thing but we get so caught up in our unnatural, daily lives, that we forget to listen and look. In fact, I feel as if I am just learning to listen and look. I'm enjoying the light these fall mornings - almost fall mornings. I bask in its luminosity, want to fall into it, want to describe how it reveals so many small things. In fact, I think I'll go take some more sunflower pictures. Or maybe, I'll find the perfect tomato. Or a partridge in the apple tree (we don't have a pear tree). Hey, ho.

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