nature, in all its seasonal manifestations, offers enough variety to keep a person on her toes for a lifetime. but have you ever noticed that within each season variety is often lacking? you don’t have to dabble very long or intensely into an attempt to eat seasonally before you will find that this is true: the first taste of each will be sublime, but then…. there can and will be far too many zucchini in the summer, and enough potatoes in the late fall to feed your family well into winter. and so you get creative, attempting to make many new things out of the same vegetable, but you might get to the point where you feel like if you have to eat one more tomato, you might go crazy. so they rot in the fridge or the pantry, and maybe you give up and go to the grocery store where you can have your pick of colorful and various vegetation from around the globe, from all the different growing climates — both real and artificial — the world has to offer.
this came to mind this afternoon while i was thinking about the season i’m currently in. this season of waiting, of being changed, but not yet fully. in six months a very mighty and violent disruption will occur in this household: a baby will be born. and with that baby, a mother and a father, too. waiting here in my second trimester, feeling that wee one wiggle around inside me, barely perceptible, i’m finding that this life season is consumed with the attempt to get my head and my heart around this thing. and i want to be present to it, attentive, grateful, slow. but this means a certain quietness. inwardness. and sometimes the thought of this season continuing for another six months, only to yield to another season that will be dominated by feedings and diapers and sleepless nights and possibly some baby blues… well, i’m afraid i’ll get sick to death of the winter squash and potatoes that nature is offering up… that i’ll want some days nothing more than to go to the supermarket and get some guavas and a prickly pear and a bunch of bananas.
but i have winter squash. and some potatoes.
this analogy feels weak when i put it down in a place where you will read it.
but what will you make with the in-season produce? what will you make of this season of waiting, of being transformed deeply in ways that i am sure you don’t even know the half of? (every vegetable comes when it comes because it is meeting a need for that particular time.) will you allow it to be what it is, submitting to the Teacher, who made all seasons for good reasons? or will you try to turn it into something that seems greener, brighter, and fuller of adventure stories?
there’s something for us here. let’s resist the temptation of the supermarket. the raspberries will be back in season soon enough. wait for it.