The farm stands in my Rhode Island village have curtailed their hours, or are shutting down completely for the winter. It isn't even Thanksgiving yet! We have become dependent on all their good fresh produce; it is hard to return to the supermarket for provisions. I went to the final day sale at one stand, and by five in the afternoon they were giving away bunches of flowers, bottles of white wine vinegar, bags of cauliflower (funny what is last to go...) I made a gorgeous dinner of steamed veggies.
This was a particularly vexing development because soft-boiled eggs have become part of my daily Slow Love ritual; they are key to my new discipline of MONO-tasking. Right now, the eggs are especially gorgeous. Maybe it is the fat juicy bugs the chickens are eating (and they like protein--none of those chickens on vegetarian diets for me, thank you.) This fall, the yolks have never looked, well, yolkier. They are all that is left of the marigolds. I seem to be craving yellow foods. Perhaps it is a response to the shorter days of sunshine.
But the other day, I was eating my eggs--and reading something on my laptop--and then I found myself at the kitchen sink (without remembering how I got there)--the water was running--I was about to put my bowl, with egg, under the tap---and suddenly I snapped out of it! What was I doing? Was I eating? or reading? or thinking? or cleaning? How about NONE OF THE ABOVE. I was doing everything--and nothing. That's when I realized that while multi-tasking might be useful at times, it is a slow love killer. I'm trying to learn to just eat my eggs. And savor them. And be grateful for them.
Then I can wash the dish, and get on with my work.