Monday, August 07, 2006

Amidst Snares, Fire, and Brimstone . . .

life goes on. And August means that it's time for the heirloom Brandywines to come in. The big red cherry variety and the Rutgers have long since been dressing our table. And the Supersteaks and Big Boys are all heavy with juice. But nothing competes with the Brandywine.

How sad for those who have no experience with the red juices of these deceptively ugly fruit with an absolutely divine fragrance dribbling down their chins, perfuming their beard with a crust of fragrance thick as January ice.

If you've never had one off the vine eaten warm, or thick sliced with a slather of mayo on a piece of bread, you have not tasted of earth air or sun - you have not tasted of life in its most pure and distilled essence.

I have written a well received book, I have written articles that have made it into good journals. But the greatest thing I have created in life is the Brandywine. It requires a lot of sweat and dedication, but the reward is much greater, for the reward is eating from the earth - the reward is life.

A tomato is something you can touch and caress. Treat it with love and it will intoxicate you with its aromatic embraces, seducing you with its red, plump, passionate enticements. Feel it. Smell it. Squeeze it. Surrender yourself to it.

Scholarly reputation in comparison? Est fugans umbra.

No miracle grow, no chemicals, just manure, dead organic matter, and pure dead fish for fertilizer. Such perfume from such decay.

Perhaps that is what Jesus meant when he said, "I am the ressurection and the life".

Perhaps he was talking about Brandywines.



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