Everything is better when harvested in season. Especially when you grow it in your own yard. Yesterday, my family gathered for my aunt Libby’s funeral and we buried her next to my uncle Hank who passed away over 30 years ago. My aunt and uncle are reunited in body and spirit and lie toe to toe with my grandparents in graves they chose when times were good, laughing about the idea of playing cards together for eternity. My maternal grandparents are buried a few graves down from my paternals, who loved each other and all of us with gusto. The paternals, Moner and Pa had a huge garden that we ate from all year by canning and freezing. Pa’s brother had an angus beef farm that we visited once a year and brought back a whole freezer full of packaged beef. The maternals, Maw Maw and Pop, fished and crabbed all summer so we had an abundant supply of frozen seafood. The best of all worlds graced our table and we ate well all year, but the very BEST was we had was eaten fresh and in season. In July, we had fresh butterbeans and green beans to die for. There were plenty of farms around, so we ate strawberries in May, blueberries all summer and peaches in July and August. I find that eating what is currently in season is the most satisfying experience possible but I do appreciate those canned tomatoes in the dark days of February. Life has its seasons:
To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
2 A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
3 A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
4 A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
5 A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
6 A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
7 A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
8 A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.
Ecclesiastes 3 King James Version (KJV)
The funeral reminded me to be grateful for what I have when I have it, for it will too soon pass. 94 years was not enough to have Aunt Libby, and although I had all four of my grandparents until I was almost 40, it was not enough. 74 years not nearly enough to have my dad but I was mindful and grateful of the days and years I did have with them. We were always into food and still are although these days, we tend to be more grateful for the fresh harvested food that comes from our beautiful area.
A Million Small Steps 