harvest of all sorts

It's harvest time and preserving time and baking time again in our kitchen.  Such a favorite time of year.  Wonderful things have found their way into my kitchen, all of it local, little of it from our own garden.  Sigh.

These delicious veges and tomatoes used to make the sauce seen below are from this amazing CSA.

I've noted a change in myself this summer, especially as we approach this season of canning jars, strainers, hot water baths, variations on tomato preservation, and using the last of the zucchini.  I'm more anxious, more overwhelmed.  There is more longing in my arms and legs and soul.

So noted...but I'll understand this shift in time.

There are seconds among the angst where my attention seems to lag behind.  For in that second, I'm watching a child grow or a child doing something that I can't remember her doing just a year ago.  I'm ever grateful that my attention pauses long enough to acknowledge, to realize, to admire.

My children fashion me a baker - the best baker ever.  I think they are really cute!  I think I read directions really well (thank you Betty Crocker). I do love that they love my treats. And ask for my treats.  And have stopped asking for store-bought treats.  They get it.  Homemade tastes better.  I get it.  Homemade IS better.

What really matters to me, though, is my baking creates memories.  And Papa's dinners create memories.  And both bring us together as a family where we share stories and accolades.  Where my children profess Papa as "the best chef ever" and dream of a time when Papa and I open a restaurant all our own.  We all know that will never happen, but we all know that dreams are better dreamed together.  It really is fun to see where a simple batch of chocolate chip cookies can take us.

My children don't often help when I bake - at least not in the practical sense.  Cheerleaders, yes.  Kitchen assistants, no.  Recently, though, Peace has shown some interest.  A good practice for my patience to be sure (note the flour all. over. the. counter.).  

But I do love having her at my side.  Her growing, kind, and caring self seeking how she fits into the world.  I can see that search in her eyes.  It is familiar.  Sometimes her eyes are dancing.  Sometimes they are sad and far away.  But she's taking it all in.  The roles women in her life play: athletes, dancers, teachers, cheerleaders, doctors, wives, mothers, and more.

She watches the roles I play. I wonder what she thinks of those roles.  And when she is ready, when she's noodled them over in her amazing mind, she'll tell me what she thinks of the roles I play.  Sometimes, I know.  Like when she asks why I don't wear makeup like her teacher who is so beautiful.  Or when she doesn't want to race me because she knows I run very slowly.  Oh I wonder.

This time with her, in my kitchen, is a bit of a gift.  Just like everything else that happens in my kitchen. And for a woman who doesn't cook, that's saying something!