Fall officially starts tomorrow, Tuesday, September 22nd, but summer is hanging on until the last minute here in Northwest Georgia. The temps continue to climb to the high 90’s with thunderstorms breaking up the humidity a bit. My yellow lantana and orange marigolds keep soldiering on, but the rest of my flower garden lies shriveled up and sad.
Summer ended for me, however, with the close of our Downtown Calhoun Farmer’s Market this past Saturday.
I love a farmer’s market, and we have had a great one in Calhoun. My routine most Saturdays since May is to meet my friends to walk at our local park, then head to the Farmers’ Market. I grab a coffee, indulge in tart sourdough bread (or a to-die-for almond croissant), and fill my tote bag with cantaloupes, yellow squash, okra, peaches, cucumbers, green beans, peas, fresh corn (for a few weeks only), and the star of the show, the tomatoes.
Let me digress on tomatoes. Any good Southerner knows the difference in a home-grown tomato that may have lumps and bad spots, and a pretty red one from a greenhouse. Keith and I particularly enjoy the heirlooms, like the plump Cherokee Purple or a yellow and orange Mr. Stripey. Keith likes to pair a slice of Vidalia onion with a fat slice of fresh tomato. I prefer a toasted cheese and tomato sandwich, with mayo of course.
Suffice it to say that I get carried away at the Farmers’ Market. After running into an old acquaintance or two, I make it home with my bounty and unload it into the refrigerator, putting the tomatoes in a pretty bowl on the table for ripening.
But then the work begins. The cantaloupe needs to be sliced, the green beans cut up and parboiled for freezing, the peas need shelling, and the corn needs shucking. And it all needs to be done in a day or two. Summer vegetables, like children, don’t keep.
In between putting up summer vegetables, I took a few trips this summer. I traveled to Kentucky and to North Carolina, with a stopover in South Carolina, and connected with old friends. Some I have not seen in almost forty years. Those visits were very special.
My mother had a framed cross-stitch in her kitchen that read:
Make new friends, Keep the old,
One is silver and the other gold.
The older I get, the more I understand that saying. Those relationships with friends who I have known and who have known me a for a good part of my life are as valuable and irreplaceable as gold. We know each other’s families and histories. We remember when we were young and maybe foolish. We can share without even saying anything because we just know.
Somehow the fresh vegetables at the Farmer’s Market and connecting with my dear friends this summer have been related in my mind. Perhaps it is because both are special and temporal. I only get homegrown tomatoes for a few months out of the year, and I don’t see my old friends as often as I would like. Both take work, but the rewards are worth it.
The season is changing. Instead of watermelons and cantaloupes, my favorite vendor, Ricney Farms, had a display of mums and gourds at last Saturday’s market. Pumpkin pie is around the corner, and I have my college reunion to look forward to in November, when I will see more life-long, golden friends that I cherish. Memories are waiting to be made.
