MEG'S KITCHEN

This is a blast from the past when summer seemed endless

by tom omalley

Summer lives here in Meg’s kitchen, fresh strawberries spread before us like the sweetest of dreams. This morning we worked hard and stooped low in the hot fields beneath the summer green hills of Salamanca. The pungent berry smell and the hum of insects lulled us into a lotus -like dream. The temptations were strong to just rest and eat,, but Meg made sure we brought the bulk of this harvest to our buckets. She promised pies. She promised jellies. She promised singing palates of joy if only we would restrain our appetites and keep picking. The pledge of strawberry short cake sustained us in our labors. It was an epic battle of body and soul.

Now in the kitchen we go about our work knowing that soon we will taste the reward of our labors. The summer sun is sinking, strawberry fingers gleam through the windows and spread themselves across the floor. Dried herbs hang on the wall in a mother’s alphabet.

Sean and Meg are busy mashing the fruit for jam. The steady rhythm of their work refreshes us. Pat, unable to resist the siren song of ripe berries, keeps stuffing his mouth with sweetness. Nora, the youngest, takes it all in. She remains patient and amused by her brothers - the strawberry juice of experience.

I am reading the Two Towers aloud to the kids while they work. We have been at this book for months, marching through middle earth in all of its splendor. Perhaps it is the perfume of strawberries, or perhaps it is the rhythm of Tolkien’s words, but we are all drawn in by his spell of magic until Meg’s kitchen becomes the bubbling domain of hobbits, elves and grim dwarves.

Tonight we have reached the part where Frodo and Sam step into Moria bearing the heavy weight of the Ring. The fate of the world depends on their steadfastness. All around loom mountains of evil: volcanoes, rockslides, Shelob the carnivorous spider, and the slithering Gollum driven by greed. The gazing eye of Sauron looms over all, lusting for power and blind to the possibilities of friendship and love. The words of Tolkien reach out to us in ways the movies never could. Frodo stumbles, and Sam carries him along.

Now the dark is rising. Soon Meg’s stove will warm the house and cauldrons of jelly will bubble before our busy eyes.

Frodo Baggins longs for the comfort of his hobbit kitchen, but trudges on toward the Dark Mountain cloaked in fear. He is borne up by memories of home, and the many friendships it contains.

This perfect summer day is fading, last light dropping beneath the window sill. I strain to watch my children as they grow as quickly as these strawberries. In no time they will be off on journeys of their own and Frodo will return to the Shire at last. In just a few more pages, peace will reign again in Middle Earth. The summer spreads it self before us, and Meg's jars of jelly will push back the darkness all winter long.