Thunder rolls through my
open kitchen windows, together with the sounds of children returning to
school on this September morning. My oven fan has gone all night,
dehydrating the first batch of apples from my friend’s next door neighbor’s
exuberant apple tree. My kitchen still
holds much of the apple debris. Twelve hours, including one flip of apple rings, finishes about fourteen apples. Some get sauced. We’ll go till the oven gives out with
condensation and needs to be dried out itself.
It can go about 4 days before protesting.
These are long, slow things
dehydrating apples, growing
apples
watching my morning glories and cosmos take over a corner of the yard
babies stretching toward independence.
Yesterday was the day to make beet borscht.
It has been years – maybe decades since I
last made a batch.
Inspired in part by the
woman at the Winnipeg market
who bought dill and beets in bunches to fill her
cart,
grinning in anticipation of filling her freezer.
She told us she loved to make huge batches to serve her family over the winter.
So yesterday my
batman grandson and toddling granddaughter and I stopped at the farmer’s market
to pick up the necessary ingredients.
“What do you need,
Batman?” asked the wonderful vendor.
Batman grinned and
picked out the bag of dill.
“What else, Batman?” he asked again. I told Batman we needed potatoes. So he quickly picked up a bag of
potatoes. Then beets. Carrots? Nope.
We have carrots in our garden.
Onions. Remind me to plant those
next year. But this year we need to buy
them. All the vegetables ready to burst
with their just pulled from the ground crunch.
Long, slow things when piled up over the years feel like a
heartbeat of time.
