Here We Are, and On We Go
The neighborhood bunnies steal some of our harvest, but they can't reach high enough for the good ones..
These berries taste like the scent of grandma Mardy's backyard roses.
All Toby has to do is strum a little tune, and his wife appears with treats.
Then she puts him to work packing.
A moderately successful attempt at raspberry scones.
They tasted good, at least.
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July 4, 2005 - Bittersweet Berries Shannon writes:: Every morning for the past week, I have stepped off our back porch to pick raspberries in the early cool. Our upstairs neighbors planted these bushes a few years back, and they have grown to crazy tangles this summer, branches weighed heavy with fruit. The berries are best in the early morning before the heat of the sun has been able to ferment them on the vine, and they are best of all the morning after a rain. They just absorb all the wet from the air, fattening with sweet.
Being green and urban both is one of Madison's big draws. Cold, snowy winters give way to mild springs and green summers. The city does not have the longest growing season, but it is one the locals pull every possibility from. We have berries off our back porch, we hang laundry on the line. Some neighbors have chickens in their yards, and community gardens are social gathering places. This week we came home from farmers market with a backpack overflowing with basil, mint, cilantro, and sugar snap peas. Their richness still sweetens the inside of the pack. We have had a torturous love affair with this town. We moved to Madison in the warm, last gasp of summer in September. Oh, we dived in. We found a weeklong book festival, colorful theater and dance, quality radio stations. We were surprised by courteous drivers, paths for walking to grocery stores and libraries, affordable rents. As the weeks turned to months, we discovered cross-country ski trails right outside our door, people willing to become our friends with little to go on, and a two-hour drive to visit Toby’s family that actually feels like no time at all (especially considering he lets me sleep in the passenger seat most of the way!). But this place has pushed and pulled us. It has teased us with endless catalogues of fascinating activities and organizations, but was unwilling to hire us to contribute to them (more on this in our Adventure Log).
Moving on is bittersweet. When we packed up the u-haul and tooled on out here, we thought this place would be home for a while. The Mad City itself has tried to lure us in. It seems everyone our age here already has a baby or three. And these families are grounded, pleasant, a little earthy. Dads in tevas carry boys on their shoulders at the local ballgame. Moms without makeup help daughters choose flowers at the farmers market. Boys with waist-length tresses cruise our neighborhood streets on bikes. And I’m talking the middle of the street. Not a worry in the world for getting creamed by a distracted driver. This place is a dream come true for a couple of newlyweds starting out. It is strange to say goodbye.
But here we are, and on we go. California Bound, and planning to leave July 23, just weeks from now! And there ain't nothing "city" about living in a cabin in the woods in the mountains along the San Andreas fault. Sure, L.A. is only an hour and a half away, but my guess is the lack of strip malls and streetlights will keep that distance at a distance. We won't even have a street, let alone a streetlight. Green Acres, here we come. In the meantime, we are taking every advantage of our zip code. Being able to plug into the funky domesticity of young, urban family life, we will count our blessings as we walk to the video store, stroll around capitol square for Saturday’s market, and pick raspberries off the back porch while the neighbor lounges in the sun on his blue plastic chair, his Neil Young cranked up, his aging collie nosing her way into our yard for a visit. |
