I warned you.
You can’t see me, but I’m dressed in black from head to toe.
Like some veiled matriarch whose sullen soul wanders the night, I too, drift in despair. My FINAL Grant Family Farms CSA box, the sine qua non of my existence, was delivered last night. I feel abandoned and filled with dread.
Now I’m left with 2 sugar pumpkins, a delicata squash, a bag of potatoes and a faint will to live. It’s only been 24 hours and already the simple pleasure of farm-fresh kale is but a bittersweet memory. Entwined garlic scapes a thing of the past. And my downfall, an earthy ménage a roots, all but gone with the freshly fallen snow.
What am I to do?
Troll the aisles at Whole Foods?
It’s not the same. I want to know where my food came from. Who took the time, care, and love to grow it. I want to be surprised each week when I open my big red box.
(And contrary to what you might think, it often costs more to buy your food from a grocery store. Not to mention the cost to the environment. Oops, that was out of character. I’m in mourning, black tights and all. Filled with angst.)
Back to my woebegone produce eulogy.
On second thought, I should probably get a grip. I’m sounding a bit nutbar-ish. I don’t want my own personal CSA farmers to contemplate a restraining order. Anyway, I’m hungry and now that I think of it, I do have some dark chocolate with almonds and cherries hidden away in my half-empty veggie drawer.
Veggies? What veggies?
Check in with me in a day or so, I’ll have something more uplifting for you.
Go forth and — and — eat dark chocolate.
P.S. Support your local CSA.