The Last Harvest of Summer

"Lord, it is time. The summer was very big. Lay thy shadow on the sundials, and on the meadows let the winds go loose. Command the last fruits that they shall be full; give them another two more southerly days, press them on to fulfillment…"

-     Rainer Maria Rilke

Several days ago, while driving home from my writers' group meeting, I saw a most beautiful sight — monarch butterflies floating through the sky like gigantic orange snowflakes. So lovely, so fragile, these harbingers of fall. Like me, they also do not want summer to end. Some linger on the goldenrod on the sand dunes drinking in the sweet nectar of the still warm sun.

Yet, it is time for them to go. Autumn will begin as it always does. But before I put the summer season to rest, I go outside to pick the last vestiges of basil. I bury my nose in the sweet fragrance. I love basil; it's the essence of summer. And I lament its passing.

I read a gardening article once in which someone referred to basil as the wimpy herb. I don't agree. It's a robust, wise herb, a distinctive and discriminating herb that chooses not to continue growing once the cold sets in, just as the monarch is wise enough to migrate.

Before the basil grows woody and the leaves drop, I pick as much as I can to give it that one last hurrah. I've tried freezing and drying, but the wonderfully unique taste pales, so instead, I celebrate basil's royalty by making pesto.

Pesto is a great way to use up your basil as well as your tomatoes. You can freeze pesto in ice cube trays and use a small amount in a dip, soup, pasta, on grilled chicken, or in bread recipes.Here's a few of my favorite recipes:

Tomato Pesto Sauce: This also helps use up some of the parsley and tomatoes in your garden. Serves approx. 8
1 cup fresh basil leaves .
½ cup parsley

2 garlic cloves

¼ to ⅓ freshly grated Parmesan or Romano cheese (I prefer Romano)

1/4 cup olive oil
3 Tbsp. pine nuts
2 cloves of garlic
1 large seeded tomato
2 Tbsp chicken broth (Add less or more depending on how thick you like your pesto sauce)

1. Place all ingredients in a food processor and blend, either chopped or smooth depending on preference.
2. A serving is usually about ¼ cup per person. Mix with pasta or baste grilled chicken or fish.

NOTE: This pesto sauce recipe is not the characteristic green because tomato is added.

Pesto sauce: For the purists who prefer the traditional green. Serves approx. 4
                                      

      1 cup fresh basil leaves

       2 cloves of garlic

       ⅓ cup freshly grated Parmesan or Romano cheese

       3 Tbsp. pine nuts                                    

      ⅔ cup chicken or vegetable broth (Add less if you like a thicker sauce)

  

1. Place all ingredients in a food processor and blend, either chopped or    smooth depending on preference.
2. A serving is usually about ¼ cup per person. Mix with pasta or baste grilled chicken or fish.


Bread Machine Pesto Bread: Another wonderful way to enjoy the bounty of your garden.

1 cup buttermilk (I always keep powdered buttermilk on hand for recipes)
⅓ cup dry white wine
3 Tbsp freshly grated Parmesan cheese
3 Tbsp pesto
3 ⅓ cups bread flour
2 cloves of garlic
1 Tbsp sugar

¾tsp salt

1 tsp active dry yeast or bread machine yeast

Add ingredients to machine according to manufacturer's directions. I prefer using the dough cycle, then shaping rolls or use a bread loaf pan, but this bread works just as well on the basic baking cycle. If you use the dough cycle, when finished, punch the dough down, then shape, place in a greased pan. Cover and let rise for 30 minutes. Bake at 350º for 10 to 15 minutes for rolls, 20 minutes for a loaf, or until brown.

NOTE: Pesto can also be made using a mortar and pestle if you don't have a food processor. It will take a little longer, but definitely burn more calories! I have an Italian friend who wouldn't do it any other way.

Once my pesto is ready, I pour a glass of wine to toast this last harvest of summer. I look out the window and see a few stray monarchs floating by. "Go," I whisper, "Go. It's time. Fly away to your next summer place."

For "…now in September the garden has cooled…
The harvest has dwindled, and I have grown apart
from the intense midsummer relationship that
                    brought it..."                           Robert Finch

Collections Happen

"One cannot collect all the beautiful shells on the beach. One can collect only a few, and they are more beautiful if they are few." Anne Morrow Lindbergh 

While my knowledge of Anne Morrow Lindbergh is mainly from her wonderful book, Gifts from the Sea, this quote suggests she's a minimalist. A wonderful "less is more" approach to life, but not the image of a true collector. I see many seashell collectors since I live at the beach. And none of them limit themselves to "collecting only a few." Their shell theme goes much further. Their houses are filled with pictures, dishes, towels, shower curtains, and furniture covers, inside and out, with a shell motif.

Collections happen. I came to this conclusion after some time of study. My education began innocently enough at our local library where a rectangular case with the sole purpose of displaying collections resides in the lobby. The collections are often unusual. Consider a sea of Smurfs. Remember those funny looking little blue…men, boys, elves, martians? Marionettes and Pez containers were two more exotic displays.

Why do we feel compelled to collect? And why do we choose the things we do? Or do our collectables choose us? Some anthropologists suggest our need to collect may be connected to an earlier point on our evolutionary journey. Susan Pearce, author of Interpreting Objects and Collections, says one in three North Americans collect something. Where are you on the spectrum? Before you say you're not the one in three, check your drawers and closets. Do you accumulate photos, ticket stubs, CDs?

After conducting further nonscientific research, I realized collectors are not born on the same motivational paths.

Consider the following groups:

The Indiana Jones: For this collector, it's all about the quest. Fellow blogger, Sandy, collects fine musical instruments and confesses, "For me, it's all about the conquest. I enjoy the ones I have, but my mind is already moving onto what I want next." On her search list: an antique banjo.

The Accidental Tourist: This is my category. I don't know how my collection of small bunnies began, but like real life rabbits they've multiplied rapidly. My two favorites sit on each side of my computer and I consider them my Muses since they always smile encouragement when I sit down and sweat in front of a blank screen.


The Reluctant Joiner: This is a person who never wanted to be an accumulator. Someone told me about a woman she met who had a bird house collection. "You must really love birds," my friend said to her. The woman looked at her. "Birds? Why would you think that?" It all began one Christmas when three people gave her the same gift. You guessed it — bird houses. Before she could return them, her birthday arrived, along with — right again — more bird houses.

The Sensualist: Stu, a member of my writers' group, collects fine porcelain Madonna figures. I saw his collection when it graced our library case. Stu is a discriminating connoisseur. He only adds to his collection when he sees an exceptional piece. His joy is in the loveliness of the art.

The Banker: My significant other, Will, began collecting commemorative quarters in 1999. He's sure they'll be worth more than a quarter each once the Treasury completes the series. The way the economy is going, I think he'll be lucky to break even. Still, it's nice to have something financial to think you can fall back on…

The Torch Carrier: The last display in the library case was a multitude of egg cups. One was labeled "Ginger." Aha, someone else to question. Ginger happens to be the library person with the challenge of setting up displays. "I began collecting egg cups because my mother collected them," she explained. So she just fell into her collection, so to speak. It's nice to know her mother's passion will live on. I wonder if one of Ginger's children will continue the tradition.

The Identity Seeker: The minute she saw the red satin pig with rhinestone eyes in Neiman Marcus, Nancy had to have it since it was time to do something nice for herself. Her Independence Pig became the first of many. Years later, when she was in a different emotional place, she was ready to move on. The defining moment, she says, was when a friend said, "Every time I see a pig, I think of you." Definitely time to find her menagerie another home.

The Memory Seekers: There's a little bit of this in all of us. Photos, ticket stubs, concert programs, but especially pictures evoke memories of our lives. My screensaver consists of a rolling picture show. California trips intermixed with Florida winters, cruises, family members at various ages, and even images I've used in blog postings. Walter Benjamin, a German writer and essayist, said it best: "Every passion borders on the chaotic, but the collector's passion borders on the chaos of memories."

The Knowledge seeker: I read once that everyone should be an expert on something. Do you have enough knowledge to speak to a particular topic? The Gettysburg battle? The life cycle of Barbie dolls? This is my wannabe collector status. All I have to do is find out what the one thing is that I'm more interested in than anything else… But maybe that's a blog for another day.

Seriously, if you haven't started collecting, think about doing so. It helps people know what to buy you for your birthday, gives you a reason to go to flea markets and yard sales, and hides the dust on your window sills. Join the ranks of the many!