We have visitors from the east this weekend. On Friday they drove through an Iowa summer thunderstorm in an open-bed pickup truck laden with boxes of household goods for storage. The load was well tarped and secured. Some of the boxes got a few drops of rain, but mostly the first principle of transport came into effect: secure your load properly to avoid problems. We hardly used the tall stack of towels I got out to dry the boxes.
The lightning and thunder were exceptional. Enough of it to make a show. Not too much to worry. A few lightning bolts hit close to home, yet for the most part the storm did its work and moved through the area without incident. It saved me from worry about watering the garden.
These August days are busy in the kitchen garden. Apples, pears and vegetables are abundant and both the garden and kitchen are full of them. I enter either place, and suddenly, four hours filled with work rush by. Being engaged in the conversion of nature to foodstuffs seems righteous. Neither “farmer” nor “gardener” nor “cook” are the right words to describe this. It is an amalgam of living in the present, tradition, education, and experience. I don’t feel any specific descriptor is needed.
We cleaned off the dining room table to sit and talk. I made a simple repast of cut garden vegetables, fruit, cheese, and crackers for the visitors. We talked about what we would accomplish this weekend, not thinking too much about the future or the past. As the United States has its authoritarian moment, such discussions define us… help us cope… make us better people.
It is an escape from the storm that has already moved on and left us living.
Journey Home 
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