I am most reluctantly acknowledging the date, slowly turning
the page from August to autumn. One last
run up the hill, hermetically sealed in a lime green slicker. The rain is
steady; my sneakers know the way and are more brazen than cautious through the
puddles.
August had unfolded slowly, picking up momentum then
culminating in a photo-finish of work. I am reminded of this as I reflect on
the past four weeks. We have witnessed amazing woodland creatures in our paths
and ‘some pig’ miracles at Crosby Farm. Local celebrities have been
photographed and interviewed, The Erie Canal and the Midwest have been analyzed
in excruciating detail. Feel free to ask me just about anything pertaining to Cincinnati
Chili, Jell-O or Perfection Salad.
The fine lined pages of our daily journals are filled with
words and visions; we crane our necks to look forward, we glance back over our
shoulders to remember where we’ve been. Against the backdrop of a rambling creek
that runs just beyond our windows, it has been a journey of self and
solidarity.
The little red barn at the top of the hill is generously
offering Free Squash for the taking. In fine print, we are admonished not to
take the baskets housing the canary yellow crookneck veggies. Not to worry-
I’ll take a pass. We have eaten our fill of summer vegetables. And for
restorative purposes, our fair share of Ronnybrook ice cream. Putting pen to
paper can be a Herculean effort.
The most obvious common thread among this diverse group of
Scholars is our passion for food. The refrigerator has been in a constant state
of ebb and flow. My contribution has primarily been in the dessert portion of our
food pyramid. Farmer Tim’s bounty of blueberries have afforded us several
evenings of sweets. Most recently, the sweet and sassy berries tumbled into
circles of butter pastry. I folded them over into half-moons, sealed with a
kiss of cream and sugar. I decided for medicinal purposes, the Scholars would
benefit from a pair of turnovers capped with vanilla Ronnybrook ice cream and
Caramel Bourbon sauce. It was just what we needed.
Heading down the hill, I tuck my rain-drenched head below a
canopy of now autumn leaves, just beginning to blush crimson. Tomorrow I will
pack the car and bid my fellow Scholars fare thee well. It is remarkable that
in a very short time, total strangers can become kindred spirits.
September beckons. It is time to turn over a new leaf.
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