Preserving

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It occurred to me today after having made apple butter, apple chutney, applesauce and then moving on to concord grape jelly that I am really hooked on this idea of preservation. This desire to capture is what drives me to write, to take photos and to save food for the cold winter. At its best it is an embrace, a remembrance and an honoring but at it's worst it is a grasping, a longing to stay forever lodged in a single perfect moment. It is Keats's line "Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours." The last oozings.
After putting the boys to bed and kissing their peaceful foreheads I came down to clean up the kitchen, put the jars in the cellar and prepare for bed. I was seized with that terrible feeling of wanting things to stay just as they are. Wanting an eternal childhood, wanting ever ripe fruit, wanting things to stay the same.. we all know how that story ends. So for now, the canning is done, the house is quiet and I am remembering the line in Steiner's verse for courage: "It is part of what we must learn in this age, namely to live out of absolute trust without any security of existence."

Apple Valley Road

My parents live on a magical country lane called Apple Valley Road. In old pictures it is a winding dirt path along the river, orchards as far as you can see. Apples everywhere. There are still a lot of heirlooms apples to be had if you have a ladder and a few free hours. We took the boys today and picked three baskets full. They are small fruits- imperfect, a few wormy ones in the bunch- but they have the most wonderful tart crispness and will make for good winter pies and crumbles. Welcome, Fall- nice to see you again.

Honey Harvest

Man, what a great weekend. The celebration of a best friend's 40th, many of the guests dear to my heart. Food from a local farm, Rosé from Aix and a perfect, crisp newly autumn evening lit by little white lights. Today we went out to the country and harvested this years honey. I know that for many beekeepers this yearly ritual is just another piece of the puzzle, but for me it was an apex. This is my third year stewarding bees and this the first harvest. There were some early hardships (hives gobbled by hungry bears among them) that just never left enough honey left over to take any for ourselves. This year, the hives have been thriving and we harvested nearly a dozen jars of beautiful, marmalade colored Apple Valley honey. Deeply satisfying.

Tired children at the end of a full Sunday. Everyone drifting off to a different dream station... the sound of the waves on the Malecon in Havana, the top of some desolate Pakistani peak, the inside of an all glass shopping mall where everyone is naked.. who knows where we will go tonight, fed on the golden nectar of mystery. As I turn in this day, I offer a deep bow to all those who left us 10 years ago today and a wish that survivors of loved ones can forgive, heal and live on in fullness.