On the first day of September and, as if on cue, a heavy mist settles on the back pasture before dawn. The rising sun appears anemic and weak through the haze but climbs quickly and melts the fog into thin air. The ‘season of mists and mellow fruitfulness’ has arrived to ‘fill all fruit with ripeness to the core.’ The wanning weeks of summer are, usually, the time of harvest and abundance. Barns full of hay, corn stalks towering and strong, pumpkins transforming into wonderful orange carriages and tomatoes vines heavy with deep red fruit.
But the summer of 2025, here in this little corner of the world, has been one of drought, intense heat, pests and blight. An early season hailstorm wiped out many seedlings. The cucumber beetle swarmed the plants that had survived, attacking the flowers that formed on the tender green branches. Bright orange flowers turned white and transparent. Then came the squash beetles, devouring the leaves and foliage leaving brown shriveled flaps dangling sadly from weary stems. The intense heat and humidity caused the weeds and pests to thrive and no bees or beneficial insects were seen for weeks.
The abundance has been consumed by pestilence and disease. Even the zucchini – the most prolific of all vegetables – has been scarce. It is almost a universal experience for anyone who has ever grown zucchini, to be overwhelmed with the bounty. There are memes of zucchini as large as baseball bats and running jokes about having so much you can’t give it away. It is, because of its abundance, cruelly mocked and taken for granted. Usually from early July through to mid-September there would be a daily (or at least several times a week) harvest of zucchini. It is usually hard to keep up with it and to harvest the fruit before it gets overgrown. But this summer, flowers would be slow to form, and then would remain as flowers for weeks, sometimes withering and coming to naught, sometimes very slowly and gradually shaping into the tiny nub of a zucchini plant. And then weeks pass before it grows into full size. Waiting for a zucchini to grow, checking on plants for weeks, greatly anticipating a zucchini – what a novelty. And then inevitably what happened is the zucchini became more precious. More enjoyed. More appreciated.
And this brings to mind the words of GK Chesterton that ‘Thrift is the really romantic thing; economy is more romantic than extravagance.’ He says that economy, properly understood, is more poetic than plenty. With abundance, almost inevitably, comes waste. We become wasteful, because we have more than we need and since we don’t need it, the thing has less value.
A zucchini long anticipated. Watched and awaited for weeks. Picked as a slender young fruit with shiny green skin, tender in its newness. Diced and tossed in olive oil, salt and pepper, then slow cooked in a heavy cast iron pan. Never has zucchini been so delicious, never has it been taken so seriously.
May next year be not so lean as this one, but in the meantime, let us appreciate what we have, and Blessed be the name of the Lord.
You crown the year with goodness.
Abundance flows in your steps,
In the pastures of the wilderness it flows.
The hills are girded with joy,
The meadows covered with flocks,
The valleys are decked with wheat.
They shout for joy, yes, they sing.