A few minutes ago the temperature dropped a little and great gallumphs of giant-boot thunder began to sound and now lightening is cracking and flashing to the south and the east of us. Leaves are stirring in a small, restless dance and the sun has closed its eyes to slits.
Come on, rain. Break this syrup-thick humidity, turn it into liquid that falls from the sky and cools the dirt.
I took a small walk this morning, less than forty-five minutes, and it was miserable. I know that it seems that the whole country is suffering right now and I know that our heat and humidity is not as bad as it is elsewhere but that doesn't make it feel any better here.
I spent most of the rest of the day in the kitchen, peeling and chopping tomatoes and cutting up onions and peppers and putting them in the food processor and then cooking all of that with vinegar, sugar, salt, spices. I started out with enough of the mixture to half-fill my biggest enameled cast-iron pot and simmered it down until this is what I got.
I guess I need to look at as a way to preserve many of the tomatoes and peppers that we grow and that each of those jars holds an entire bounty of garden goodness.
Or something like that.
The mystery and wonder of chickens. The mystery and wonder of rain. The mystery and wonder and alchemy of making sauce from tomatoes. The mystery and wonder of watching a cat watching the rain come down. The mystery and wonder of loving someone so long and discovering that you love them more every year. Hell, every day.
The mystery and wonder of it all.