I was out for a walk the other night and realized that by 8:30 it was getting dark. And though the day had been beautiful, the air, once evening fell, could only be described as bracing. It makes me a little sad. I love summer. And I’ve especially loved this summer, so full of adventure and new experience. I’m not quite ready for it to end.
But September brings its own pleasures, chief among them the bounty at the farm markets. The tomatoes are beautiful right now, ripe and redolent of sunshine, and the basil is so fragrant that it fills my car with scent in the short drive home. I can choose between the slim, dark green, French beans and the crisp scarlet runners, between the New Zealand spinach and the tender lettuce.
The market is a riot of colour and texture, scent and shape. The deep red beets. The bright yellow and green summer squash. The dark leafy greens. The cheerful reds and yellows and oranges of the tiny, sweet tomatoes. The pale green ears of freshly picked corn. And the pink blush of the first apples.
This summer was truly delicious in so many ways. I’m mourning its end. But as summer fades into autumn, I need to remind myself that with a new season will come new gifts.