Squash, beans and tomatoes nearly filled my basket. I managed to rescue a couple of ripe Black Krims from bandity raccoons - their greedy paws and sharp teeth snatching the best from the vine (how do they know?). The rest I'll ripen safely indoors, wrapped in newspaper in a cardboard box. The herbs are neatly trimmed and the little space under the stairs looks a bit barren as a few straggling vines cling to the trellis and the tomatoe stakes stand empty.
Loaded stalls were filled with summer's harvest. Cranberries and carrots, squash, garlic, celery, potatoes and peppers, cauliflower (*swoon*) and corn. Honey. And mushrooms, those earthy, naked denizens of Fall. We filled up packsacks and shopping bags and brought a bounty home with us.
Tonight I am making fresh Cream of Celery and Autumn Mushroom Soup. Fresh pungent celery and King & Enoki mushrooms. It is simmering on the stove as a type. There is that sweet anticipation, again. Soup. Soon. Yum.
Autumn is like the rest between the notes in music, so important in the composition. Fall, it seems, makes me a little philosophical too. How about you?