Country Mouse Monday: eating autumn

I didn't even realize how much I was longing for this time to arrive. Now that the fall Equinox has come and gone, and the trails I use are carpeted in orange and yellow leaves, the smell of moist mulch and bay leaves in the air, now I know I'm ready.

Summer was great and hot and long, but bring on the cooler temperatures and shorter days.

In a break from a crazy, unexpected downpour on Saturday morning, I filled a basket with what the farmlet has on offer right now: eggplants, tomatoes, several kinds of peppers. 

Waking up on that rainy morning, I remembered what the long, hot summer helped me forget: how wonderful it is to stay indoors. And to have the oven on in the middle of the day.

Also remembered: so many autumn mornings strolling the Sunday Farmer's Market with The Kid when he was small. We always went early, as is our family way. And we'd walk and look and buy, and then watch red peppers roasting over an open flame, a man standing off to the side of the drum, keeping the peppers turning, turning, evenly charring, filling the air with that irresistible smell.

For me, roasted red peppers are the very taste of fall -- a timely combination of summer sweet and autumn smoky.

This was a really good year for heat-needing veggies (thank you, sun!), and the very, very first time we were successful with red peppers for whatever reason. Next year I'll know to provide them with a little more support. Their spindly little branches and stems seem unable to withstand the weight of all those great fruits, and over they go, lying down on the job.  But still, still they produced plenty.

So we're eating autumn over here on the farmlet, with every mouthful celebrating the change in season, looking ahead to colder, idler times, dark nights curled up with a seed catalog and plans for spring.

For now, that means two jars of delicious roasted red pepper hummus in the fridge, to be added to every lunch and dinner all week.  

The wheel of the year is turning, and we along with it. As the garden goes quieter, we do the same, spending less time outside and more indoors.

But we bring the flavor of our little plot of earth inside with us, inside us, savoring summer even as we revel in the fall, remembering all that light even as we enjoy the dark.

Happy Autumn, everyone! May your harvest, and your rest, be sweet!

XX