The Warmth We Need

Just a few days before the equinox, Autumn pushed summer aside and settled in. It reminded me of the soothing pleasure of a cup of tea in the morning and often another in the evening. I have a few small piles of tomatoes on my kitchen table, several ears of sweet corn in the fridge but I'll soon be trading my summer nectarine and yogurt breakfast for a hot bowl of oatmeal.

I can't help but notice, take in, and write about the change of seasons. I welcome them all in different ways but the arrival of fall might be the most evocative for me. It has been more than ten years since I went back to school, which is why the arrival of September didn't distract me from enjoying the rest of summer. But as soon as the air gets crisp and the breezes cool I start to crave small changes, new routines and the chance to have the fresh start that school so often brought.

Instead of a new haircut and sweater I am making gradual, seasonal changes in the kitchen. The tomatoes and corn are still very good eaten fresh though I am now more interested in the way they can be transformed by the heat of the stove or the oven. This morning Amos and I made a pot of tomato sauce (or rather, I made the sauce while he bounced and cooed and smelled the garlic and onions and basil). The sauce was a slight variation on this one, which I pureed and let simmer while we read stories and played on the floor. A pot of tomato sauce is such a simple thing and I am fortunate to have a baby who is happy to hang out and watch while I do some cooking. After months of eating vegetables with little adornment or cooking, this transformation seemed especially satisfying. Stirring a pot by the stove is just the right thing when I'm wearing jeans and sweatshirt and feeling the cool air blow through the still open window.

While Amos napped, I stirred polenta, another warm and bubbly pot on my stove. The beginning of this new season makes me want to spend all day in the kitchen for warmth, satisfaction and sustenance. The sauce and the polenta will go with sweet kernels of corn cut off the cob and a big bunch of basil to make a baked dish full of the flavors of summer and the warmth we need with the arrival of autumn.

In Between Time

It seems like we have more snow now than we've had all winter. We've gotten it inch by inch and sometimes, like Tuesday, several inches in a day. Though the blanket of snow is deep in the yard in front of our building, the sun lingers until nearly six o'clock in the evening. The birds are becoming more and more vocal and this weekend we will turn the clocks to make the daylight last even later. Everything looks like winter but there are so many hints of spring.

I'm happy to stay cozy inside and nestle under a down comforter at the end of the day but then I think it will be equally nice when we can sleep with the windows open and the smell of summer air. I am eager to take more walks when the sidewalks are free of treacherous patches of ice but I also wouldn't mind going for another cross country ski. We're still working our way through food that I froze and canned last summer but I look forward to trips to the farmers' market in flip flops.

I find it hard to let go and just be in this in between time. I want to hold on to what we have now: the light of late winter, the sparkling flakes, and hearty meals. But I am eager for the slow emergence of spring with warmer days and buds on the trees. I find myself holding onto a river bank, resisting the current as it tries to carry my little vessel downstream. I'd like to release this tension, to be freed from clinging to things that must change and to simply appreciate what each day brings.

Perhaps my wish to hold off inevitable change and the anticipation of everything that is coming can't be helped. Regardless of the season or the weather, we are anticipating the arrival of our baby in three months while trying to make the most of the time we have now. Yesterday, I scanned the calendar and noted the remaining weeks, mentally calculating how much there is to do and how quickly time will slip by.  Maybe I'm not feeling the push and pull of the changing seasons. Maybe it is the tension between known, familiar, comfortable and the big changes that lie ahead. I aim to stop holding on for dear life or calculating how little free time I will have, I want to sit in the boat and go where the river takes me.