Honorable Harvest
Hurry, the fruit is not gonna pick itself.
Above is the narrated and illustrated version of the text. Just without the photo of my dog. If you enjoyed, consider the button below.
Dear Titus,
My heart is still there as I write to you about it.. The scene is strange to me, as we rarely do fight.
But today, our feathers are ruffled and we take it out on each other. We just go up the hill, him walking faster, me holding my pace as to purposefully stay behind. Then stopping to add a new layer of spite.
The beauty of our surroundings is washing over the whole discussion, but not managing to make it stop. Ella is walking beside us, tense and attentive, just a slight uneasiness in her posture.
We get to the fig tree, and look at it briefly. Not to say hi, but to assess the yield. In a mechanical way almost. Souls somewhere else. And we start picking. Picking. Not eating. Taking and stashing into the basket, minds elsewhere. Poor fig tree must have thought we were crazy. How could we do that to him? I tear up thinking about it.
The upside to being so out of it is that we don't greedily pick to the last fruit, like we did last year at the start of the fig season. We would eat until our bellies burst. Until no ripe figs were left, for birds or mice. Or worms.
Honorable Harvest means taking what you need and leaving the rest for others. It means being with nature and thanking her for her gift. Being. Truly being. And giving back love, and awe. Grateful contemplation of the beauty surrounding us is the only way we can start saving it.
The first step is always love.
The drought here in France is one of the worst ever recorded. The fields are yellow and sad. The wind is making dry sounds as it washes over the landscape. Yet the fig tree up the hill gives aplenty, fruit sweet like candy. We finally taste the best ones and leave the rest for home.
As we hurry back down, still entranced in our petty problems, the Beauty of it all finally catches us. We stop, sit down together, and listen. Ella lies down and gazes at the field with that wise look of hers. It's over.
You are wise too my friend. I need you to tell me that the world doesn't rest on my shoulders and that the fig tree will forgive me for taking without saying thanks.
I need to be reassured, like a child, that I'm doing my best and that it's all gonna be fine.
And that I shouldn't let the outside world kidnap my mornings like this and make me insufferable, and that you still think well of me nonetheless.
I need to know that there will be figs next year, and the year after that.
And that the rain will come soon.
Tomorrow morning I will go up to the fig tree again. I will ask him about the things that matter and he will guide me. And we will sit together in the sweet smell of ripe fruit and look out at the hills. The crackly hush of the wind will make the leaves dance. And you will be with us then, Titus, as you are with me now.
As always,
Jo
P.S. In between then and now, one of my best friends from college died of cancer, leaving a one year old and a loving husband behind. She'd suffered on and off for the better part of a year. She'd call me from her hospital bed and we’d pass the hours together.
I went up the hill to the fig tree.
I asked him Why.
He answered: “Look at the hills. Autumn is coming. Can you feel it? Hurry, the fruit is not gonna pick itself.”
P.P.S. I heard say that Finland mushroom picking, especially for Fungi Porcini, of which they are the biggest European producer, has a specific set of rules, called Everyman’s Right. They include things like "only pick what you can eat" and a national cap of 10% of the total yield, commercial picking and export included. That sounds a lot like Honorable Harvest brought to a state level. I can't find a source though...
But I did find this essay called the Art of mushroom foraging, on the phenomenological experience of… mushroom foraging, if this is your kind of think:) Also, a Swiss study stating mushroom picking does not impair future harvest. Good to know.
Earworms much?
These days have thankfully been a mixture of things, instead of just one tune over and over until my brain goes to mush. If you had an earworm, I’d love to know. Maybe you’re the one who stole mine!
In the meantime,
Beautiful expressions.
Your description of Honorable Harvest is just magnificent in every way - thanks for putting those words together...
Sorry to read about the loss of your friend...