Fall has arrived, right on schedule. The nights are crisp and clear, making for excellent sleeping weather. We like the windows open and the duvet pulled up around our ears. The days feature those intensely blue high-pressure skies, a perfect showcase for the brilliant hues of the turning leaves. The woods beckon, still fresh and mossy, with pockets of green and the promise of mushrooms. I want nothing more than to be outside right now...unless I am curled up in front of the fire, feet toasty and a good book open in my lap, a cocktail close at hand. The pantry is stocked, the freezer is full and I am holding fast to these last days before the weather turns.
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September has arrived and with it that bittersweet feeling full of nostalgia for the sweetness of summer, charged with anticipation for the fresh start that is fall. How I've missed you! This post will probably be a bit longer than usual because, in my month off, I have stored up so much to tell you.

I had many plans for the month of August, a long list of projects and goals. I wanted to make natural dyes. I was going to send out a survey to my readers. I had every intention of uploading all the content for the launch of my redesigned professional website. And guess what I did? None of that. Instead, I coped with having 5 herpes outbreaks in 6 weeks: a glaring sign from my body that all is not right. But your life is so perfect! you say. Country living, fresh food, walks in the woods—what could possibly be wrong? Actually, I am grateful for this wakeup call. I have clearly been pushing myself too hard, not taking the time to nurture myself and not really listening to my inner voice. You know the one. It tells us when we have reached our limit, when it is time for change.
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Here's what you do:

Find a lovely hillside or meadow where the air is clean and the water is pure and look for the tall stalks of the milkweed plant sticking up amidst the long grasses and wildflowers. Go now, before the beautiful, beaded pale green clusters bloom into wonderfully fragrant mauve flowers. Take a cotton tote or a plastic bag and pinch off the buds, being careful not to disturb any Monarch butterfly cocoons. Make sure not to denude any stalks and to leave plenty of buds behind.

Milkweed tends to grow in great patches, so it shouldn't be hard to forage sustainably. Your fingers will become sticky from the white latex that oozes from this plant wherever you break it. Thistles and nettles may grow nearby. Dragonflies will dart around you, glistening in the sunlight. Take what you need for dinner and move along. 

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Last year I had the great pleasure of working with a supremely talented illustrator, Sasha Prood (represented by my dear friend Stephanie Pesakoff at Illustration Division), who created a custom alphabet and set of numbers for Glutton for Life. When I had the blog redesigned last spring, we included the new alphabet in the "About" section under Glutton A-Z, but that's a bit of a secret so I thought I'd share a few of the illustrations here. I'm featuring the ones most reminiscent of spring, now that the days are getting longer and the earth is waking up. I'm considering screening some of these beautiful drawings on linen kitchen towels and/or burlap tote bags, so do let me know which ones you like best. At the bottom is the full collection, including numbers. Note there are two Ts (so there would be no redundancy in spelling out "glutton") and two Us, because some people were confused by the stack of bowls.
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Ah, August. A month whose name alludes to its impressive stature. It looms large, shimmering in the heat, revered as the last great beacon of summer. It's over now and September stretches ahead in the golden light, the first leaves smoldering red, the school bell ringing in the distance. Summer is so fleeting but I'll hold tight to my memories of Cape Cod, a place that with its salty air and sun-bleached shingles seems to encapsulate this season better than any other. A few days with dear friends in their beautiful home near the beach in Truro left us relaxed and rejuvenated, determined to go barefoot more often. We strolled, swam, cooked, lingered in the screened-in porch and slept soundly, dreaming of childhood.
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Back to earth, quite literally. I spent 5 hours weeding yesterday. Before we left for Venice, I had noticed a new kind of weed proliferating throughout the garden. I ignored these slim stalks for a few days and they took advantage by inviting all their kinfolk to the party. By the time we returned from our trip, the whole enormous crop of them had dried up, turning most of our beds into brittle, grassy fields. The kicker? When you pull them up, they literally spit their seeds into your face, showering them everywhere. So we are assured of a nice big crop next year. Mother Nature sure is clever. On the flip side, she has rewarded us with so many other signs of gloriously burgeoning life. The chipmunks are back, fat and sassy, chasing each other around the yard. Woodpeckers syncopate the goings-on. The cherry tree and the lilacs are in bloom, and their sultry perfume never fails to remind me that life is sweet.
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I still haven't found any ramps, but it has begun to rain at long last and this is a promising sign for foragers. The forecast includes some nights in the 20s this week, though, and with everything in full bud, I fear for some of the less hardy plants. It was a strange winter and is shaping up to be a very strange spring indeed. Still, for some people it's ramp business as usual, as you can see by the bunches I brought home from the local farmers market. Here are some ideas for how to use them if you, too, have access. Green garlic or slim scallions would also work with these recipes.
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We've scarcely had any rain up here in the hinterlands. I've even considered doing some sort of little dance in an effort to placate the gods. A winter without snow means no melts to form the vernal pools where frogs and salamanders spawn, and it can also lead to precious few mushrooms. (And this was to be my year of tracking down morels!) But driving home late the other night, we came across a yearly event that would seem to indicate that things are mostly proceeding according to plan: smashed frogs on the road. Yes, every year they make the trek from the ponds behind our house to the ones across the way. I know not why as it seems like a dangerous endeavor. A good number give up their precious lives along the journey to greener pastures. Out in the woods, we found other signs of spring, too.
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Our annual combined celebration of Easter and Passover came and went in a frenzy of cooking and eating, as usual. I was in charge of the bulk of the menu this time but, as always, our 15 friends brought traditional treats and specialties that really pushed things over the top. I'm going to spread out the telling of this event over the week, posting a different recipe each day, or else it will be too overwhelming for both of us. As you can see from the photo, above, we gathered at Beaver Dam, the gorgeous upstate home of a very chic French gallerist I am lucky to call my bosom friend. Big dogwood branches, hyacinths and other spring blooms came from the city, as most plants are still dormant up here. The sun was shining, the air was cool and fresh, and we had a roaring fire going. Spirits were high as the advent of spring always brings a rush of renewed energy.

Home again, home again. As much as I love to travel, sometimes I think coming home is the best part. Especially when the transition from balmy Hawaii to balmy New York is so smooth. (Minus the jet lag, of course.) Our trip to the Big Island was extraordinary, and I plan to tell you all about it, but I hit the ground running and have not yet had a chance to sort through all the photos, much less my thoughts. So that's for next week. For now, a few glimpses of spring's first signs—it's arrived fast and furious in these parts—and links to some of my latest discoveries. I'm chomping at the bit to start foraging and have a long list of wild edibles I'm determined to find this season. By the way, I've missed you madly and realize all over again what a wonderful creative and social outlet this blog is for me.
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