Foraging

Yesterday I had a glorious experience at the Dupont Circle Farmer's Market (despite blogging about the market in Mount Pleasant, my Saturday did not take me there). I came home with heaping bags full of cherries, nectarines, salty Persian cucumbers...a pint of small red strawberries, so shockingly sweet on my tongue...I spread out my bounty on my kitchen counter, just soaking in the glorious color and the perfume of the basil, and felt what can only be described as ecstasy.

I sliced up a cucumber and sprinkled it with the tiniest bit of sea salt, and with every crunchy, salty bite, I was content. I chopped a tomato and tore basil leaves, rubbing the bits between my fingers, and mixed this, too, with the tiniest bit of sea salt, a shake of balsamic, and a small sprinkle of pungent feta; it was sublime. I retired to the porch with a pitcher of water infused with cucumber, a glass, and a sweet nectarine to top it all off.

And as I sat there, feeling a sensuous high, I found myself reflecting on the similarities between foraging at the farmer's market and foraging for creative inspiration. I didn't buy everything at the market - some colors and scents and flavors called out to me more than others, and I allowed myself to indulge my intuition: this, a delicious must; this, pretty, but not for me. My bounty was uniquely mine. Searching for creative inspiration, I realized, is a similar experience - all sensors open as we move through life, responding, maybe, to this birdsong, that breeze, that tune through the window, and storing these sensations away, to pull out later, and make into something completely our own.