I woke up this morning and the house smelled sweetly of peppers and warmth.
From the upstairs window the fog waited to greet me,
Then bowed and left so the sun could make a grand entrance.
I hover over my coffee mug just long enough to be enchanted by the liquid swirls and contemplate how long the shadows will be out to play.
Long enough, to enjoy the subtleties of the season yet I feel Fall is upon us and I feel I am running out of time.
Oh my ears and whiskers I’m late!
I’m late for a very important date… I am unsure of the timing but vaguely know where I am going on my journey.
I will get there when I am ready.
Yesterday there was at most three, least one and usually just two.
Pressed aprons, glinting knives and so much conversation skipping over three hundred pounds of peppers.
She said this shall make about four hundred jars of Autumn colored delight.
I stared in disbelief at the paper with her math scrawled across it.
She is a chemist, a humanitarian, an artist and a magician.
Behind me the dishwasher spouted and crashed like an ocean trapped in a stainless steel box and washes away my thoughts.
Ajwain seeds planted flavor on my tongue
and mock salmon pate created delightful disillusionment.
I am so contented in this kitchen performing acts of love.
She offers me the roasted pepper skins to dehydrate and I excitedly accepted.
Even the waste of the rescued food will gain new life as a dried spice.