[Preliminary Thoughts: VIII]
Harvest is both a noun and a verb.
If you’re like me, when I think of harvest as a noun, I picture a cornucopia. Remember those from grade school? They are the iconic symbol, along with a turkey, of course, of Thanksgiving. A cornucopia represents the gifts of the land after a long summer of growth. All the fruit of labor climaxes in pounds of rich-in-vitamin-A storage foods that will sustain the the farmer/homesteader/hobby gardener through the cold winter months.
Harvest as a verb doesn’t get much airtime, and I think I know why. Nobody likes to admit (or understands) that getting from garden to garage is no small task. Sure, a pumpkin practically rolls itself into storage, but a carrot requires unearthing, washing, drying, and carefully protecting. Try 500 carrots, 300 beets, 50 head of cabbage—you get the idea.
Vegetables don’t jump into the cornucopia. Nor do they jump into the oven. Nor do they chop and season themselves. The work never ends.
Life is full of hard verbs, broken up with a few wonderful, iconic nouns.
I look forward to reflecting this year on harvesting and the nature of life’s hardest work that never ends.
