Life Is Different Now

Wow!  Nearly a month since I last blogged!  Phew…well, my excuse is that it is autumn.  Autumn is the last nice-weather season before the long, dark, wet days of winter set in here in the great Pacific Northwest.  Don’t get me wrong, I adore the tradition of winter around here.  We layer up.  Fleece replaces linen.  Flannel replaces cotton.  Gortex replaces canvas.  Pedicures become all about moisturizing and less about fun-colored toes. (What can I say?  I’m a femme kind of lesbian…) But autumn is the last great season to  be outside.  And on days like today when it’s cool with scattered showers, my attention…no my very core of being…feels the need to can, to preserve, to freeze, to prepare for the coming months. 

When I go to the farmer’s market in the fall, my eyes scan and search for the root vegetables and squashes that will feed me through the winter.  I stuff down the panic that tomotoes will only come from my frozen sauce or the jars I can.  It will be months before I hold the fresh ripe fruit in my hands again.  Lettuce will be replaced by kale.  This has been my way of life for more than ten years— locally grown food and eating seasonally.  It’s innate in  me - this seasonal clock ticking away.  In my world this time of year is a quarter to the witching hour of winter.

With this ticking growing louder like something out of Edgar Allen Poe, on my last visit to the farmer’s market I stuffed my bag full of winter squash — acorn, butternut and spaghetti, to be exact.  It took control not to take every kind.  They’re so beautiful and edibly alluring. 

This morning I awoke intent on roasting these lovely vessels of vitamins. It will take me the better part of the day to finish this project. You see, I no longer have a country kitchen with a 36-inch double oven, 20 linear feet of counter tops, an extra freezer and a pantry.  I now live in an urban studio apartment that is the size of the average hotel room.  I possess 40 inches of working space. Nevertheless,  I cut and cleaned my squash this morning.  I am taking turns roasting them off, having stuffed them into the smallest oven known to humankind.  What I don’t eat tonight will be pureed and frozen.  My freezer is the size of a small cooler so between the squash, frozen tomato sauce and blueberries, I’m asking myself how important are the “just in case of emergency” ice packs in the door.  I won’t need ice cubes until summer.

I live in a city that is better than most about locally-sourced and seasonal foods.  I have connected with several farmers and have identified sources so that I can sustain my values around eating food from places and people I know.  Later today, when I serve spaghetti squash and homemade tomato sauce for the first time to my girlfriend (who watches this domestic explosion with varying levels of humor), I will be coming to terms with the fact that my life is different now.  And that’s okay.