27 ~ Turning
Welcome to August.
Today brings the full moon, the Sturgeon Moon (no such thing as a Trout Moon I guess). While it’s not actually the last full moon of summer (since summer officially ends on September 21), it feels like it, especially as it’s being reinforced by a week of cooler weather. This morning, I can feel the turn toward autumn, for we in the northern hemisphere. It won’t be long before swallows are flocking on the wires, and cranes in the fields, assembling for migration.
Suitably for the season, yesterday my buddy Greg and I dove into a pickling and canning marathon, from garden to kitchen. We got 36 jars filled and sealed, adding to the thirty or so I’d already put up – pickled cucumbers, wax beans, broccoli, green tomatoes, peapods and asparagus. Pickled beets and red cabbage kimchi await, and I may try my hand at pickled eggs this year.
Jarheads. (Note the kitchen island, made from a slab of old bowling alley by my friend Tony; it’s been the beautiful background of many of my food photos here. “My friends are the good fortune of my life, I know it well.” - Camus)
Yesterday I also checked the crock of adolescent sauerkraut I started a few weeks ago, and all looks fine, no mold or other alien smear. And the chest freezer is approaching 2/3 full – with raspberries, strawberries, rhubarb, various vegetables, and a few trout. Getting ready for winter…
At this turning from summer’s frenetic abundance toward the quieter, cooler time of year, I’ll share a seasonal ‘guest editorial’. This is today’s reading from Deng Ming-Dao’s book, 365 Tao: Daily Meditations (a gift from my brother Tom). Good inspiration for canning…
Decline
Fog chills heaven to gray,
Nights come earlier.
Everyone knows decline,
But few discern its border.
Although it is summer and there are many warm months to come, it is possible to sense that the heavens are already turning downward. Nearly imperceptibly, the fruit is ripening on the trees and the nights are lengthening once again. It is too early to talk of autumn, and yet the next season is on its way.
Why do we never prepare for decline? We all realize that it is a valid phenomenon – we know about the fall of empires, the aging of heroes, the lessening of our own skill – but we are not always aware of its approach. We often realize too late that we are in a period of decline, and so we are unprepared. It takes a wise person to perceive the moment when things begin to change.
Summer does not fade away in a day. Our actions must accord with the times. Just as the declines of summer is gradual, so too should our actions be commensurate with the pace of change. Even thought decline may be approaching, we must gauge how quickly or how slowly events are moving. If we are too hasty - like someone who notices the first cool breeze and immediately dons winter clothing – we will be overreacting. It is important to think of decline as something natural and inevitable. Therefore, there should be no emotional values attached to it. It simply happens, and that is all.
~~~
That said, grief at our declines and losses is likewise inevitable, and appropriate. It, too, is best accepted, even embraced.
As summer starts its fade, I sit with some grief on one side, and gratitude on the other. It is important to keep these two together, like twins.
This month, the most worthy ‘zine about things Driftless, Voice of the River Valley, published a guest column I penned, which you can find here:
https://www.voiceoftherivervalley.com/driftless-terroir-home-is-where-the-trout-is/
It covers ground familiar to readers of this blog, homage to brook trout. Jesus may have walked on water, but the real miracle, and in fact J’s reflection, swims within it.