Autumn arrived Saturday in the gardens and woodlands of the Pacific Northwest.
Blackberries are ripe in hedges and along the edges of fields.
In gardens and farm stands, the array of produce is enough to make a cook swoon.
The apples on our trees tempt me to pies and sauces, and I'm roasting pears sprinkled with brown sugar and nutmeg for a scrumptious dessert tonight.
Some of our food comes from the labor of our own hands...
Some from the hands of farmers like Steve and Aaron.
Some, like the juiciest of blackberries, we forage at the edge of the woods. Emily and I were out on Saturday afternoon stuffing ourselves and bringing home more to share with the family.
We're savoring the last of the basil and tomatoes, corn and berries and welcoming the apples and pears. What a delight to live according to the seasons, to sniff the damp morning air and smile at the chill.
The grapes are ripe in our garden and the farms around us, and I have to admit that while I love to pop them into my mouth and let the juice trickle down my chin, I find the visions of light and beauty even sweeter.
Welcome, fall. Summer was grand but we're ready for a beautiful autumn. I can't wait to jump in a pile of leaves and dance in the rain.
