Fall is always a nostalgic time for me. Not for any really deep reason like the symbolism of the falling leaves, but just because I love summer.
To me, summer is sundresses and pedicures and ice-cold gin & tonic, nights that start as the sun fades and stretch into the sultry heat of dark, and the time of freedom and few cares. Things happen in summer that don't happen the rest of the year. Each summer of my life that I remember - most until I finished college spent living in another city or centered around a major event - has marked a seminal moment, starting with the one in 1979 when I was born. In 2000 I lived in New Orleans for those three months and that summer I learned to be the person I am and I want to be. I love those moments of my summers, of my life.
It's October. Definitely fall. This summer was one of self-discovery and a little bit of difficulty that forced me to look inward, and its ok that it's over. I got a lot out of it. And now I'm getting a bit nostalgic for summer, especially after today's lunch: cucumber and what was probably the last haul of summer tomatoes from the Farmer's Market.
Perfectly ripe, sweet and tangy and rich, those tomatoes came to me so late in the season as if to remind me that I am supposed to be thinking, pondering, reflecting on this summer. They're telling me that summer might be over, but the beauty of the summer can pop back at any time, so don't forget it. That I need to appreciate the things that came of this summer all year long, and look forward to the times when I can reach back on those lessons and use them, savor them. Just like you do the surprising fall tomato.
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