Colorado grown tomatoes from Pope Farms
Today as I fed my beetroot and apple ferment into the blender to make relish, I kept thinking about how food production ties you to one place. It’s the same kind of binding that happens when you have a garden or a baby. You have things to tend to, and they run on their own schedule, usually not your’s; you just have to adjust, which I don’t mind. I like the give and flow of the seasons, the growing child, or life. I find going with the flow of school a difficult task, especially combined with leaving town. My standards for a clean house and being organized went drastically downhill when we left to visit in-laws last month. All I could think was, “Let’s just go and get this over with,” which has nothing to do with my in-laws, but everything to do with how overwhelmed I felt at the time. These thoughts also bring home another point to me, we did not have a vegetable garden this year due to bindweed. We also did not participate in our CSA. I did not think I would miss the flow of produce or the canning, freezing and feasting that follow. Last Sunday, I went alone to my Farmers’ Market. I went alone because my usual companion had a sleepover at a freind’s house. I asked the lady farmer for five pounds of tomoatoes. She was thrilled–she even gave me a discount. I came home to make tomato soup to freeze for those winter nights when we come home late from basketball. The kitchen filled with the warm smell of roasted tomatoes, garlic, onion, and carrot simmering. This moment seemed to whisper, “Here is home,” and that settled feeling warmed me.
pearlblossom 