Ode to Zucchini

Ode to Zucchini

How do I love thee?

Let me count the ways.

I love thee as the abundant fruit of the garden,

Surpassing all cucumbers and peppers in number and volume

Rewarding even the most neglectful gardener

With almost overwhelming yield.

I love the memory of thee

From the days of my youth

Thwarter of hunger when the cupboards were bare

Although my mate at the time lamented and complained

I loved you then as I love you now.

I love thee grilled

Lightly oiled and seasoned

Marked with the dark lines of your sacrifice

All for me.

I love thee in bread, straight from the oven

Whole wheat mixed with fragrant spices

Beckoning, calling me to taste of the moist goodness that hides within

And even the children are unaware that you nourish as they partake

Of your bounty.

I love thee as ratatouille

Cavorting with onions and tomatoes

Enhanced with a grating of cheese

Steaming, enticing, promising to warm me on even the coldest nights.

But most of all, I love thee as lasagna

layered with ricotta and bathed in tomato sauce

ground beef and garlic

covered with a blanket of mozzarella

for breakfast.

Home Grown Pears

We have organic fruit!  Our huge house may sit on a mere 0.18 acre, but we managed to squeeze two pear trees, an apple tree, and a few raspberry and blueberry bushes in there also.  

My 83 year old mother covets fruit.  Whenever she sees fruit growing on somebody else’s tree, she wants it.  She lives with us and is very happy that our trees are finally producing after years of dormancy.  But, somehow the fruit on somebody else’s tree always looks better.  And, she really doesn’t like or understand my organic fanaticism.

We have ugly, blemished fruit.  Mom doesn’t like that.  The “regular” fruits and vegetables at the grocery store always look so much bigger, brighter and perfect than their more expensive organic counterparts that I place in our cart.  She wants bigger, brighter and perfect.  It LOOKS so good!  But, you know what?  When I bite into that seemingly yummy perfection, my taste buds are so not impressed.  They say, “Really?  How can something that looks that good, taste so bland?”

I just ate my first home grown pear.  Mmmmmm…it was sweet and juicy and…ugly.  I had to cut out a few brown spots and peeling it was a little difficult because it was a bit misshapen…but let me tell you, the flavor was SPECTACULAR!

I feed my family organic food because I want to give them good, wholesome things that aren’t irradiated and laden with pesticides and poisons.  Our environment exposes us to enough pollutants and contaminants externally; I don’t like to have my family add to that exposure by ingesting them also.

My whole point is this.  We tend to like what looks good to our eyes, but is that always what’s best for us?  Good looking people, good looking cars, good looking fruit, good looking positions – are all these things as good to the core as they seem?  

The LORD does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart. (1 Samuel 16:7)

The Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

We ate in the southern tradition today.  We made southern fried chicken, collard greens, hush puppies and sweet potato fries chased down with lemonade and followed by coconut cream pie.  I read to the family as we ate, teaching them about the tradition of "soul food."  Dan followed me by reading a short biography of Dr. King.

And then, we tried to read Dr. King's "I Have a Dream" speech.  Tried.  Tianna and Luke started but were stumbling on the big words written by a man of great intelligence and advanced learning.  So, I took over.  Rather, I tried to take over.  I didn't get very far before the tears welled up and my throat started to constrict with emotion.  I handed it over to Dan to finish.

My husband did a great job of adding dramatic intonation to the words of the martyred civil rights leader.  He did great for a paragraph...or two.  And then, it happened to him, too.  His voice started shaking.  I looked over and his eyes were wet as a look of determination came over him to continue.  I laughed.  "It's time to give it back to Mama," the children advised.  They are used to us.  They know the kinds of things that touch us and make us cry.

We did make it through the whole speech (will miracles never cease?) and Dan brought everything to an emotional crescendo as he read the final words, "Free at last!  Free at last!  Thank God Almighty,  we are free at last!"  I believe even my mother was touched as she remembered the prejudice that she herself was subjected to in the 60's and 70's.  She was THE minority person in our small town.  The only one.  And because of their ignorance, they assumed many wrong things about her.

When we decided today to do our little history lesson with the children, I don't think we realized how much we would come in touch with our own passion for humanity.  We truly believe that God created all of us as equals and that He endowed us with certain unalienable rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.  Let freedom ring.  God bless America.