On Melons and Meteors
I picked our first watermelon today.
Weighing in at one ounce shy of fourteen pounds, I don’t think I’ve ever been so proud of having grown something in my life. This variety, Moon and Stars, takes a good long while to mature - and everything I’d read said not to try them in Colorado where the growing season ends up being too short for these heat-loving melons. But I started them early, in extra giant pots so their roots wouldn’t be disturbed during transplanting, and have babied them along ever since. I’d say I’ve earned this sweet, juicy, crisp reward.
Now, I love a good watermelon and could easily chow my way through this treasure in about two days (and yes, I do mean all on my own!!). But the thing I’m loving best about growing my own food is that I end up with a much bigger appreciation for the things I harvest. I realize just how much time, energy, love (and lets not forget water!!) went into getting them to my table. As a result I eat more slowly and really appreciate every bite.
In other news, summer seems to be starting to wane, just a little. I see it in the light, in the way the rabbitbrush is just beginning to bloom. Then again, maybe that’s just what I need to tell myself to make it on through. Every year, this one included, go into this season with so much energy, so sure that THIS will be the year the summertime blues keep their distance. But honestly? That mentality just isn’t working.
Maybe it’s time to just accept that it’s harder for me to get out of bed in August than it is in January. That I was made for the cold, made to thrive in slanted sunlight and soft, sleeping landscapes. Next year, I plan on making summer my season of rest in as many ways as I can. I plan to be gentler with myself during a time that never fails to leave me run down and a little worse for wear, both physically and mentally.
As of two days ago, Eric and I have officially been truck campers for a whole year. I love that we have it pretty much down to a science now and getting ourselves out into the wilds almost feels…easy? We have a routine, know where things go, have (mostly) figured out how to sleep comfortably with us and the two dogs snuggled in the truck bed.
Earlier this week, as is tradition, we went out to watch the Perseid shower with my parents and younger brother - only this time we decided to try our luck up in Wyoming instead of out on the grasslands. Mostly, our meteor viewing was a bust. Clouds moved in around 10.30pm and when they blew out in the early hours, a thick layer of smoke from regional fires took their place. Such is life. Sometimes you see a million shooting stars, sometimes only a few.
The camping was wonderful though - we reheated tamales (that Eric and I carefully made last weekend) for dinner and whipped up pancakes for breakfast. We watched the sun rise, red, from behind a sheen of smoke and danced around with the dogs in the first minutes of morning light. I HAD TO WEAR A HAT for the first time in months and months. Summer won’t last forever. I’ll make it to fall this year, just like last year and the year before that.
On Monday, I hope to finally be starting in on my September collection. Finally. FINALLY. The color palette is unquestionably fall and the stones I’ve got laid out in the studio keep calling me back to them, every time I pass. I tell them it’s almost time, I’m almost ready. Soon they’ll be talking center stage on my bench.
