Season's End

After several weeks of an extraordinary display of fall colors, our trees are now shedding their leaves as winter approaches.  The dark and the cold are just around the corner.  Our garden produced admirably this year, except for the summer squash.  Have you ever even heard of summer squash not producing?  Well, ours were a wipe-out and I didn't once open my entirely squash cookbook.

Bill is the vegetable gardener and I am the cook and preserver.  His specialty is garlic and about 60 heads of the Russian variety are stored for soups, stews, stir-fries, you name it.  We even send some to appreciative friends in California.  And then there are the tomatoes-cherries, slicing and Romas.

This batch is ready to be made into pasta sauce, which I freeze.  It makes a wonderful meal on a cold winter's eve.  Bill gets his yearly quota of bacon with day after day of BLT's and eats the cherries right from the bush.  Me? Well, I only like my tomatoes cooked-that's too bad, but I've tried and it just doesn't work.

This is my first ever batch of ratatouille, made from our tomatoes and garlic, with squash, onions and eggplant from the farmers' market.  Yum.

And then of course there is the basil.  This year I made three recipes of pesto and socked it away in the freezer.  It will last until the spring if I'm careful.  My favorite way to use it is as a topping for salmon or white fish.  You can even buy less expensive frozen fish if you prepare it this way and it tastes great.

We still have many carrots and beets in the garden and they only get sweeter as the fall progresses. And we have a bumper crop of arugula, which loves cool weather-twice I've taken it to choir rehearsal and given away bunches and bunches.

How lucky we are- a bounty from our garden to sustain us during the cold, frozen winter months.

Respite

Earlier this month, after weeks of house guests and performances, Bill and I boarded a ferry in Blacks Harbour, New Brunswick, for an hour-and-a-half ride to Grand Manan Island. Although one can see its majestic tall cliffs from the coast of Maine it is actually part of Canada. The area is home to many species of birds, whales, seals and the like. About twenty miles long, Grand Manan was once a thriving hub of fishermen and dulce harvesters.  But now the two thousand or so hospitable and friendly inhabitants just try to get by however they can.

The east side of the island is mostly beach and marsh.  Our simple housekeeping cottage looked out over a scene much like the above.  We had happy hour on a bench near the water every evening and watched the ferry come and go.

We explored by car and foot for two days, ate simply and rested.  There are many spectacular hiking trails, an interesting museum and a few shops.  It was exactly what I needed.

Each time I come back from a vacation such as this (even though it was short) I wonder why do I work so much?  The simple answer is we need the money for recurring living expenses and retirement.  And I keep trying to figure out how to lower those expenses so that I can have more time. I want that desperately yet there's no easy answer.

We are planning a return trip to Grand Manan next summer, for a week.

Untethered

The beautiful Maine summer is beginning to wind down- the shadows are long, the evenings cool, and I can no longer begin my after dinner walk at 7:30. The gardening I hoped to accomplish, the hikes I wanted to take, swimming in a lake, cleaning out the attic…most of that is still undone.  I am tired, travel weary and a bit untethered.

Despite my love of seeing the world I am a homebody at heart.  My favorite evenings are spent with my husband quietly reading, watching a movie, knitting or listening to music with a dog by my side and two cats stretched out nearby.  There has been a pitiful lack of these evenings this summer.  I likewise cherish rainy days and the chance to clean out a closet or organize my recipes or, heaven forbid, crawl into bed with a good book. But this summer I have been on the road or practicing or working or...

I am not necessarily complaining, just noticing…in many ways it has been a stellar season.  An inspiring American Guild of Organists convention in Boston, time with family and friends in Dallas, recharging my church music batteries at the Episcopal Musicians Conference in TN, accompanying Poulenc’s Gloria for the Mount Desert Summer Chorale, a recital of organ duets and solos with my friend Ellen.

But I feel a change coming...

Simple Summer Supper

On these sticky summer days I like to make a salad for supper.  And with our garden and local farmers market in full swing it's easy and healthy.  Last night I improvised on a recipe I'd seen on line and this is what I came up with:

Mediterranean Salad
serves two

several handfuls of mixed greens

one hard boiled egg

cucumber slices

avocado slices

red bell pepper
kalamata olives

one can of chickpeas, rinsed and drained

Arrange the above ingredients as you like (you can see my composed version above), drizzle with homemade balsamic vinaigrette and enjoy. Serve with a glass of dry red wine. Cantaloupe makes the perfect dessert.

Any salad ideas from you readers?

Early Summer

White peonies blooming along the porch

send out light

while the rest of the yard grows dim.

Outrageous flowers as big as human

heads! They're staggered

by their own luxuriance: I had

 to prop them up with stakes and twine.

The moist air intensifies their scent,

and the moon moves around the barn

to find out what it's coming from.

In the darkening June evening

I draw a blossom near, and bending close

search it as a woman searches

a loved one's face.

Peonies at Dusk, Jane Kenyon

Silence

For God alone my soul in silence waits;

From him comes my salvation.

(Psalm 62)

In the midst of getting to know my new grandson I attended a week-long residency for my class on contemplative prayer, offered by the Shalem Institute. To say that both these experiences were transformative is not exaggerating one bit. The miracle of new birth combined with a spiritual experience of great depth and meaning has given me a new lens through which to look at life.

Not knowing a single person or really what I was getting into, I was quite anxious about the residency, held at a retreat center west of Baltimore.  But when I walked into the first session I realized that the other 21 students felt just like me.  The anxiety lasted about 5 minutes-I quickly saw that we all spoke the same language.

Each day included a seminar on such topics as leadership, prayer forms and contemplative awareness. We met daily with a small peer group where we “practiced” leading a particular form of prayer and made and received comments from our leader and the other members. We shared good food together as well as walks by the meditation pond or on trails thru the surrounding woods. There was no hiding-we talked one-on-one and in larger groups about our deepest beliefs, hopes and disappointments.  And there was plenty of opportunity to be alone and quiet if one so desired.

In the midst of the residency there was a 36-hour period of total silence.  We still ate together, met in seminars (led by a leader who was talking) and even danced our hearts out.  But we were silent.  I relaxed into this time with myself, and truthfully, it was wonderful.  I noticed the ordinary and treasured the common.

I want to explain a bit about prayer forms-this has been new to me.  A prayer form is simply a way to help one grow closer to the Spirit and listen-it is similar to meditation, with the intent of drawing near to God.  The prayer forms serve as ways to help calm and clear a cluttered mind.  One can use a particular word, chant, icon or interior image.

In leading my peer group I chose to use thanksgiving as my prayer form. Reminding the group members of Paul’s admonition to be thankful in all things (1 Thessalonians 5:18) I asked them to say “thank you” to each thought that came into their minds, whether positive or negative, then to let it go.  Yes, it is easy to be grateful for the good in our lives, but what about the bad?  This prayer is not gratitude for the bad but a way of showing us that something good can come from a tragedy, a loss, a death.  But how can the death of a loved one contain anything to be thankful for, you might ask?  Perhaps your loved one was spared agonizing pain by dying or perhaps estranged family members drew closer. This is what is meant by thanksgiving in all things.

Returning to my everyday life after the residency was not easy.  Stacks of bills, piles of paper, flower beds full of weeds-all vying for my attention. Yet I am trying to carry this marvelous idea of contemplation with me as I live each day. I feel that I am on a bridge, leaving behind the tendency to control and demand and heading toward a profound sense of peace and acceptance.

My soul waits quietly for you

From you comes my deliverance

         (Zen-inspired translation of Psalm 62 by Norman Fischer)

Baby's Bris

 Yes, that would be as in circumcision….and not in the hospital, but at a private home.  Exactly eight days after Baby Zev’s birth his bris took place.  Many friends of Emily and Jeff’s, along with their young children, as well as three grandparents and an aunt were in attendance.  Rabbi Shira was there along with the mohel, the person professionally trained to perform the procedure.  She was an ob/gyn, which gave me some comfort!

The baby was laid on a small table with Grandpa Marty in charge of holding his legs down.  Zev had been given a local anesthetic and a few drops of wine were ceremonially placed on his lips.  I turned my back as the circumcision began and in a few short seconds baby was crying and it was all done.  Emily nursed him and he then slept for a long time.  It was somewhat traumatic for a number of us, including the baby, but ultimately the meaning of the ceremony won out over the pain for me.

Rabbi Shira led the naming ceremony for Zev  and offered numerous prayers and blessings.  The prayers sounded oddly familiar and reminded me very much of baptismal prayers.  We were asked to pledge our support for the parents and our love and care for the baby as he grows.  A celebratory feast of bagels, lox, cheese, fruit and wine followed.

Most of my life I have lived as part of the majority, but this afternoon I found myself in the minority, looking in.   I felt respected, welcomed and embraced as someone from outside this Jewish world.