It is that time of summer here – the one where you can’t eat all the vegetables pouring out of the garden, and the farmers can’t keep up with all the stuff their farms are producing, and many things that are precious and rare much of the year are cheap and abundant. Besides eating yourselves into a coma on ripe tomatoes, okra, eggplant, peppers, blackberries, peaches, sweet peppers and the ubiquitous zucchini, it is time to think ahead to the days when the idea of thinking “oh, no, more ripe vegetables” will seem strange and alien, and you will be desperate for red and green and orange and juice that drips warmly down your chin. Today my food preservation and storage class begins (I’ve still got two spots left if anyone wants them!), and we will begin talking about how to keep up with the gloriously wretched excess in the garden. But first, I leave you with a poem about zucchini, because, after all, everyone needs poems about zucchini to think about while they are chopping.
…Get rid of old friends: they too
have gardens and full trunks.
Look for newcomers: befriend
them in the post office, unload
on them and run. Stop tourists
in the street. Take truckloads
to Boston. Give to your Red Cross.
Beg on the highway: please
take my zucchini, I have a crippled
mother at home with heartburn.
Sneak out before dawn to drop
them in other people’s gardens,
in baby buggies at churchdoors.
Shot, smuggling zucchini into
mailboxes, a federal offense….
– From Marge Piercy’s “Attack of the Squash People” from _The Moon is Always Female_