Every August, my cousin, sister-in-law and our kids all get together at our Grandma's place to pick crabapples from her trees and enjoy a potluck lunch all together. I love this yearly rhythm that has developed and can imagine the warm memories that Yummy is building from this growing tradition. It surprised me that she had visual memories of putting apples in baskets and following her cousins through the tree rows from last summer (a whole year seems very long for a four-year-old), but she mentioned these things before I did, after I told her we would soon be going to pick apples again.
Harvest is upon us. Mr. Man plans to start dessicating the lentils tonight, so we are plunging full tilt into the busiest time of the year. I have begun to think of Harvest as Food Season, since most of what I do revolves around food. I prepare and deliver meals to the fields (with much amazing help from my mother-in-law), can beans, beets, pickles and tomatoes in all their glorious variety, freeze beans and peas and raspberries and zuchinnis, make apple juice and apple sauce, dig potatoes, and gather herbs.
I am a happy person. Most of my life, I wake up in the morning eager to start a new day, always ready to see the positive. And yet, a year ago today I started taking anti-depressant medication. I was living with a constant feeling of being overwhelmed, so anxious that my heart would flutter and pound even when I sat still on the couch in the evenings.
I keep a binder labelled "Inspire Me" where I toss images and words that make me want to create. On those days when I really want to make something, but don't have a concrete idea, I sift through the pages and, more often than not, I find something.