Autumnal Musings

One of the best things about going to the Farmers Market every week is that right now, right as we speak, I'm witnessing that glorious shift between summer and fall that's heralded by the arrival of sweet, local Concord grapes. If there's ever any doubt that summer's about to end, even when the night turn cool so abruptly it's like God's opened the refrigerator door looking for a midnight snack, the arrival of those frosty purple grapes makes it real. Yes, they say. It's time.

I'm not being terribly original when I divulge that I love Autumn. I mean, who doesn't? I love taking my cardigan sweaters and jeans out of the closet. I love single-apple cider laced with a smoky, peat-redolent Scottish whisky. On a cold night. Listening to the last of the crickets, the day Jim Blum gets it in his head to play only songs about autumn.

And then there's the eating. Though not a squash person, I do love a white ceramic souffle dish filled with creamy red and yellow potatoes, local onions and sweet corn, sage, tarragon, and a rich orange cheddar. And a light breakfast of cheddar and walnuts and apples. And coming in out of the cold rain to a grilled cheese sandwich on whole-grain bread I've made myself and a bowl of Tomato Bacon cream soup. (That I've made with the last of the summer tomatoes - the ugly ones that the farmers are practically paying you to take away). And a bowl of thick Turkish red lentil soup in the evening, the kind that never fails to give you a second wind, no matter how soul-sucking your day was. And opening the first porter you've had since spring - what's this? Was humankind meant to drink something this strong?

Oh, yes.