Today I stopped by the farmers' market as it was closing and bought some tomatoes. They had been sitting in the sun and were warm and juicy. Getting back into my car, I polished one against the leg of my pants and ate it just the way it was. The skin was crisp and snapped wonderfully when I bit into it, the juices ran down my arm and I quickly licked it off. For a few minutes I was transported in time. I could have been the little girl in the garden, plucking off a tomato and standing in the dirt, barefoot, eating a tomato while the sun shone all around, smelling the pungent clean scent of tomato leaves, hearing the chickens churring and clucking as they chased bugs...
Later on I had black walnut ice cream on a gooey chewy brownie. The ice cream is intense on its on, but perfect paired with a brownie or pressed between two cookies. Black walnuts aren't for everyone. They are strong and intense, tasting of wildness and secrets. I love the scent of them when they fall to the ground in their hard green husks and then later as they are peeled by laying them in the driveway and driving over them til the husks come off revealing the rough black shells. Because I have then so rarely they only contain good memories.
I am lying here listening to an approaching storm, thunder rumbling, the sky turning hues of gray, the wind picking up in the trees, the smell of ozone in the air.
Its funny how a tomato, ice cream and brownies and an approaching storm can lift my spirits. I am neither as complex or mysterious as I hoped to be as an adult. I think I am finally figuring out that life at its simplest is the best blessing of all.