I am most reluctantly acknowledging the date, slowly turning the page from August to autumn. One last run up the hill, hermetically sealed in a lime green slicker. The rain is steady; my sneakers know the way and are more brazen than cautious through the puddles.
August had unfolded slowly, picking up momentum then culminating in a photo-finish of work. I am reminded of this as I reflect on the past four weeks. We have witnessed amazing woodland creatures in our paths and ‘some pig’ miracles at Crosby Farm. Local celebrities have been photographed and interviewed, The Erie Canal and the Midwest have been analyzed in excruciating detail. Feel free to ask me just about anything pertaining to Cincinnati Chili, Jell-O or Perfection Salad.
The fine lined pages of our daily journals are filled with words and visions; we crane our necks to look forward, we glance back over our shoulders to remember where we’ve been. Against the backdrop of a rambling creek that runs just beyond our windows, it has been a journey of self and solidarity.
The little red barn at the top of the hill is generously offering Free Squash for the taking. In fine print, we are admonished not to take the baskets housing the canary yellow crookneck veggies. Not to worry- I’ll take a pass. We have eaten our fill of summer vegetables. And for restorative purposes, our fair share of Ronnybrook ice cream. Putting pen to paper can be a Herculean effort.
The most obvious common thread among this diverse group of Scholars is our passion for food. The refrigerator has been in a constant state of ebb and flow. My contribution has primarily been in the dessert portion of our food pyramid. Farmer Tim’s bounty of blueberries have afforded us several evenings of sweets. Most recently, the sweet and sassy berries tumbled into circles of butter pastry. I folded them over into half-moons, sealed with a kiss of cream and sugar. I decided for medicinal purposes, the Scholars would benefit from a pair of turnovers capped with vanilla Ronnybrook ice cream and Caramel Bourbon sauce. It was just what we needed.
Heading down the hill, I tuck my rain-drenched head below a canopy of now autumn leaves, just beginning to blush crimson. Tomorrow I will pack the car and bid my fellow Scholars fare thee well. It is remarkable that in a very short time, total strangers can become kindred spirits.
September beckons. It is time to turn over a new leaf.
Professional Pie-isms & Seasonal Sarcasm