Leaning on Spring's Sill to Summer

This morning marked our first pea harvest. I sat on the deck, in the shade of the red umbrella, shucking these darlings, then blanched them. This beloved ritual yielded two pints for the freezer, plus some extra for nibbling. They’re so good.

This morning also marked the garlic scape harvest. The lesser-ripe, tender scapes went into making Maneuljjong Muchim (Spicy Garlic Scapes), an new annual ritual that started about two years ago when I discovered the recipe. It’s sitting in the fridge to macerate ‘til supper time. This seasonal dish is so freakin’ good, and it’s only here during the garlic scape season. I’ll be savoring it like a delicious madness to hold in my brain and heart ‘til - gods willing - next year this time. And those lesser-ripe scapes will be blended into a simple pesto to preserve them in the fridge for future kitchen witchery. Our annual garlic scape pesto rarely lasts long because we use it in all the things.

Yesterday, I finally got some pinto and red beans canned. This has been on my list since the chilly days of early spring. Eight pints of pinto beans canned with onion, garlic, bay leaf, fresh oregano, and fresh epazote (though one jar is in the fridge, ‘cause it failed to seal)… and nine pints of red beans with bay leaf. This morning I washed the jars, scribbled the labels, and will label them all before setting them on the basement pantry shelves.

These efforts feel good because I’ve been struggling with merging will, motivation, and physical ‘n’ mental energy to get things done. Yet here I am, leaning on spring’s sill, sipping iced tea, gazing into summer that arrives tomorrow evening. I offer big gratitude to the waning vernal season, as it, along with beloved Gaia, supported me gently in getting most every vernal seed and seedling into the earth. And when summer arrives with the solstice, I know I’ll be entering the "official" hurry-up-and-wait-season of daily, yet gentle harvesting, preserving and assorted kitchen witchery. Summer's fire ensures that my will, motivation, and energy meld in that gentle way that early summer dictates; harvests happen on Gaia’s schedule, not mine, so I offer thanks for these recent vernal preparations as I look forward to the season of hurry-up-and-wait.

Peace.