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Always rent a scooter when you visit Block Island. It’s THE way to get around, and it’s wild fun! I shouldn’t have been taking selfies while riding, though.
“A fly, when it exists, has just as much being as God.” Soren Kierkegaard. (My husband cradling a tiny, perfect crab on Block Island.)
Rock cairns on the beach near Block Island’s North Lighthouse.
Rose Rugosa, the beach rose. The epitome of summer, and everywhere on Block Island.
These yellow petunias on Block Island are gorgeous. Everything on the island grows beautifully.
The food garden exploded while we were gone. Four kinds of tomatoes, crimson watermelon, cucumbers, green peppers.
We just returned from our short but terribly sweet trip to Block Island. Four days and three nights is not nearly enough time. It was perfect, and there were many moments where I was filled to overflowing with gratitude. Just pure thankfulness. We were both constantly mindful of the beauty of the island, the miracles around us, and our great fortune to be alive and experiencing it.
When we got home yesterday, and after rolling around with the dogs and getting unpacked, checked the food garden. In just four days, the garden exploded with fresh food. Many trips between the garden and kitchen later, and we had counters full of watermelon, cucumbers, green peppers, and all four varieties of our tomatoes.
The tomatoes are what broke our backs. So many. So guess who made marinara last night? There are eight quart jars of fresh, vegan marinara in the fridge today. Today’s lunch is a tomato and Veganaise sandwich, my favorite. And I just gave away a big bag of tomatoes to friends.
But we noticed that the cucumber, watermelon, and pepper plants are winding down fast. In a week, they won’t be viable. This is an early end to the season for most, but since we plant early, we end early.
Plants, like people and animals and all things, have established life spans. So this weekend, all but the tomatoes will be removed, the ground will be tilled, and lime will be put down. A few weeks after that, the tomatoes will end their run.
This is always a really sad time. 2016 was a particularly great season. I’m going to miss, as I always do, all the fresh vegetables that appeared in virtually every meal since June. Eating gets so much better in summer.
But it’s time to let go and accept impermanence. I’m always thankful to have been a part of the process once again. I’ll ache all winter, but then spring will return, and hopefully, I’ll be there to greet it.
In a couple of days, September will be here. There are things to look forward to as we approach autumn. Buddhist classes start up at Wesleyan again on September 11 and continue through to next summer. Longer nights mean more time to read, and I have a pile of great books waiting. Our potatoes and garlic will be ready to harvest soon. My husband and I and the dogs will take our annual October trip to Vermont (lunch at the Moon Dog Café is the best).
Our dogs love winter and will play outside without heat stress. I have new skis, bindings, and boots, and eventually, it will snow. Summer is best, but life is good no matter the month, and I’m beholden to it all.
Live in peace.