I started Barbara Kingsolver’s book, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, A Year of Food Life, a week ago, sitting poolside while my boys swam and cannon-balled. I have found the tranquility and Zen I seek in the blue of the water that calms my mind in readiness to absorb the books I am reading. I began my new-book ritual where I briefly remove the paper cover to inspect the binding and hardcover, read the front and back flap summary and author bios, bringing the volume to my nose to inhale its new book smell, and look at the back, thumbing through the pages, when a woman walked passed and remarked that she thought it was a good book although slow at times. In my current frame of mind where gardens have been huge for me on my right-brained runs, I thought, “SWEET!” This is the perfect time to read this book.
Lately, I have been admiring the gardens in the suburban safari in which I run. Corn’s stiff stalks growing tall with its secret silk sheets, tomatoes in gradient shades of green to red, string bean ivy plants climbing chain-link fences like squirrels clamoring up a tree. I’ve been sorely tempted to pluck a plump green string bean dangling through a chain link fence as though it were attempting an escape from a grey penitentiary.
And the sunflowers are HUGE, following the passage of the sun with their faces, drawing its light into their gardens. Running by sunflowers of yellow, orange, and red, I paused to admire those beautiful big yellow, orange, and black bumblebees in their important work while warblers flit about to drink flower nectar, all the yellow, orange, and red colors moving my eye about as though the scene were a painting in New York City’s Museum of Modern Art. I peered closely into the interior of a sunflower, looking at the seeds in its center and taking its huge blossom in my hands as though holding the face of a beloved child, tempted to kiss his beautiful cheeks.
I wonder at the taste of these seeds, vegetables, and fruits. Do they taste as rich as the mineral-filled carrots I pulled as a child from farm dirt and ate? Is the sweet corn as brilliant as the sunflowers it neighbors? And the tomatoes. I am sure nothing matches the intensity of flavor of my grandmother’s garden grown juicy red tomatoes.
This morning, I passed a favorite garden (where the string beans were planning their escape) and saw its steward bent over, working the soil. Impulsively, I stopped and said, “Excuse me, but I run by your garden frequently and think it is just beautiful.”
She spoke no English, but she was so lovely and gracious in her response. The only thing I could gather from her speech is that she is from Italy and taking classes to learn English. I’ve not thought myself skilled in think-on-your-feet games like Guesstures and Taboo (surprising, I know, as I am a sign language interpreter), but I pointed grandly to her garden with both hands, made the kissing motion of myah!
“Ah! You! Here!” she exclaimed as she walked the length of a row, waving me along, although I was on the opposite side of the chain link fence. After a few minutes, she placed in my hands as though bestowing a consecration, three beautiful tomatoes and two peppers.
After giving blessings to each other, I carried those treasures in my hands, not trusting them to my 5k pack or the bags I carry for collecting my finds of acorns, leaves, and pinecones, and happily I did so for half a mile! (And yes, so much richer they did taste with their minerals than their store-bought counterparts. The sliced tomato on cottage cheese with a sprinkling of locally grown-and-made lavender spice was a delightful brunch!)
Anyway, in reading this book, I have grown thoughtful in my express ways and decided to shop for locally grown foods in my own Safeway supermarket until I could visit the local downtown farmer’s market. New in this, I floundered until I spotted a man moving deftly and swiftly through the vegetable department despite his girth. From local product to local product, he moved like the bumblebees I admired in the sunflowers, so, inconspicuously as possible in my bright pink paisley sundress, scarf, and strands of jewelry, I followed him, pretending I was in Philadelphia’s colorful Reading Terminal Market, bagging each item that he bagged, green and red lettuces, chives, onions, radishes, and string beans.
Proudly, I stood in the checkout line, my canvas bags at the ready (Safeway labeled as I have garnered austere looks in Fred Meyers where I filled my Albertson’s canvas bags with my groceries) and locally grown, organic vegetables when I noticed a display of bulk Kraft Macaroni & Cheese Crackers and Ritz Peanut Butter Crackers in snack-sized bags, perfect for my boys’ poolside munching. SWEET! I thought, so I snagged those, too.
Oh yeah. Right. Sigh.
Sigh. Baby steps to more organic and local eating. Either that or two steps forward and three steps back. Or is it three steps forward and two steps back? Sigh.
OH WELL! At least I’m going in some direction, even if it is in circles and towards an unknown destination! SWEET!
~~~~~
Oh, the picture. My boys are such good sports! When I finished my run, tomatoes and peppers in hand, I HAD to take a photograph with my GrUBB.
“MMOOOMMMM,” they said, “are ya gonna take ANOTHER picture of ‘Blah blah on Canvas’ and post it on your blog?” to which I said, “YES! ABSOLUTELY!”
They know the many pictures I have snapped that I have spared my readers.
“MMOOOOMMMM!” they say.
But this one…I have to post.
Tomatoes and Peppers on Canvas, 8/27/2009.
GL, 8/27/2009. Prevail.
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