It was a sweet, long summer here at the farmette, with some moments more bittersweet than others. We've savored laughter from friends, with friends, from ducklings, chicks, and our dependable gaggling hens. Even Rooster Rooster - our not-like-Big-Bird-who-attacked-me - rooster who lovingly (sometimes with a little "extra lovin") shepherds his girls around and doesn't so much as puff his auburn feathers at me, has contributed his fair share of joy with his confidently broken crow (ala teenage boy). But as one might expect, there has also been some death on the farm, right alongside our own string of miscarriages.
I started writing this nearly a month ago--days before my sister's wedding, when the summer gourds were reproducing like mad in my garden. Well, things went pear shaped (me, the misshapen zucchini, but thankfully not the wedding) and the post went on hold. My sister still got married (hallelujah!) and it's mid September and the zucchini continue to fornicate like rabbits. So I'm in luck, and so are you if you've got pounds of the stuff sitting on your counter or growing like wildfire in the backyard (or on fire sale at the farmer's market). With chocolate is the best way to eat zucchini...or in the dead of winter curried up on a grilled cheese sandwich when the bounty of summer squash dances in your head like a vision (that recipe up next). Until then, I dread a few days away for fear of monster zucchini hiding under the vines, discovered and begging not to be wasted.
On June 12th I happily and nervously sent off my Food Processor's License in the mail to the regulators in Olympia. As I penned my signature onto the most important form, I paused at the date - already inscribed "May 10th". May 10th was before I knew I was pregnant for the third time - and before I miscarried for the third time. May 10th-- long enough since the last pregnancy that I was starting to feel like myself again. I remember what that felt like so clearly. I was finally moving forward --with or without a baby. It's been a little over a month, such a short period of time, and so much has happened. I've digressed in some ways and grown in others. I desperately want to feel like myself again. Forcing progress, like submitting my license application, helps, but it's not completely genuine. Despite being a month later than I intended, it feels rushed. But sometimes you have to put the head down, and run-- run fast. Other times, putting your head between your knees is the more appropriate response.