Friday Ramble - Abundance

I awaken early and lurch out to the garden wearing a faded cotton caftan, straw hat and sandals, carrying my cane and a mug of Earl Grey. In the wake of last week's tumble, the stick is a must. Best not to go base over apex into the tomato patch. The vines have taken off in all directions, and I might not be found for days.  

The only sentient beings happy about the heat are the mindfully foraging bees and the ripening vegetables in village veggie patches: beans, peppers, tomatoes, kale, chards and emerging gourds. Are veggies sentient, and do they have Buddha nature? You bet they do, and I suspect they converse among themselves when we are not listening. The zucchini vines (as always) are on the march and threatening to take over entire gardens, if not the whole wide world.

The tomatoes are a marvel. Scarlet or gold, occasionally purpled or striped, they come in all sizes and some surprising shapes. The first juicy heirloom "toms" of the season are the essence of feasting and late summer celebration as they rest in a bowl on the deck: fresh-from-the-garden jewels, rosy and flushed and beaded with early morning dew. A wedge of Stilton or Camembert, crusty bread, a little balsamic, a sprinkling of sea salt and a few fresh basil leaves from the garden are all that is needed to complete both the scene and today's lunch.

Oh honey sweet and hazy summer abundance... That luscious word made its first appearance in the fourteenth century, coming down the years to us through Middle English and Old French from the Latin abundāns, meaning overflowing. The adjective form is abundant, and synonyms for it include: ample, generous, lavish, plentiful, copious, plenteous, exuberant, overflowing, rich,  teeming, profuse, prolific, replete, teeming, bountiful and liberal.

Abundant is the exactly the right word for these days of ripeness and plenty, as we weed and reap and gather in, freeze things, chuck things into jars, "put things by" and store the bounty of summer for consumption somewhere up the road. Like bees and squirrels, we scurry about, hoarding the stuff in our gardens to nourish body and soul when temperatures fall and nights grow long. For all the sweetness and abundance held out in offering, there is a subtle ache to these August days with their dews and hazes and ripening vegetables. These days are all too fleeting.