Yesterday,
I had my first real taste of summer. A cucumber. Not just any cucumber. We can
get cucumbers year round at the grocery store. This was the first-of-the-summer,
just-picked cucumber from our garden. Its crisp taste immediately brings up
memories of summers as a child. That first bite always says "summer"
is here.
Hang
on, you say. Summer has been here in Michigan since May. Actually, we had a
"taste" of summer in March with unusual eighty degree temperatures.
This year has been exceptionally hot, for long periods of time. Not just here
but all over the country. With all that heat and little rain, I wondered how it
would affect our garden.
I
say "our" garden as if I had anything to do with it. It's my
husband's garden. He buys the tender, young plants as soon as they're available
then impatiently waits until danger of frost is past (sometimes, sooner) before he puts them in his carefully-prepared
strip of ground. That's right, a strip of ground. Three years ago, he rid an
area between the lawn and the neighbor's privacy fence of decorative stone for
his garden. With the drought, he's out there watering that two by thirty foot
strip every morning and praying for rain—just like farmers all over the country.
Ironic that City Boy wanted to plant a garden when Country Girl here grew up on
acreage with a huge garden. Been there, done that, don't need to do it again. Retirement
does strange things to men.
The
tomatoes are getting bigger and soon another taste of home-grown, fresh-picked
summer will be here. As kids, we would eat tomatoes right off the vine like an
apple. No need to wash off pesticides or whatever they put on tomatoes for
transport to stores. We didn't use pesticides so our tomatoes came au naturel. Just brush it off and sink our teeth into the ripe flesh of warm,
juicy sweet-tart tomato. Can't wait until ours are ripe. I say that now but by
next month the tomatoes will be lined up along the kitchen window ledge and
he'll bring in a dozen more—from three plants! Two people can only eat so
many tomatoes. Since I don't can (been there...) our neighbors, relatives,
strangers even will enjoy our bounty. Tomatoes are like zucchini, always more than
you can eat.
Sweet
watermelon and corn-on-the-cob slathered with butter are treats we only indulge
in during the summer. Hubs hasn't tried growing them, thank goodness. We live
in the city. But, corn picked that morning by a local farmer is so sweet, tender and
juicy. Another taste that reminds me of summers past.
How-to
articles tell writers to ground the reader by using the five senses—hearing, touch,
sight, smell and taste. Hearing, touch and sight are fairly easy. Taste is more
difficult to describe. Smell plays a large part in what we perceive as taste—proper
name, gustation. I learned something new, thanks to Wikipedia. I always thought
there were only four basic types: sweet, bitter, sour and salty. Apparently, there's
a fifth called "umami" that means meaty or savory. I can
definitely see that when I think of tasting a tomato. By bringing taste into
our stories, we bring the reader in, make the reader experience what the
character is experiencing. In Switched, when Veronese (from an alien world) first tastes Diet Vernors Ginger Ale, the bold, sweet-tart beverage
bubbles on her tongue and tickles her nose. In Switched, Too, when Scott
(from Earth) tastes alien starship veggies for the first time, the flavors
explode in his mouth and are so intense he feels as if his esophagus is glowing
radioactive. Unfortunately, those stories do not take place in July or August
when they could experience the true tastes of summer. Maybe in the next book.
Ah ha, that gives me an idea.
What
are your favorite tastes that you associate with different seasons?
Starting this
Thursday, August 2nd, I'll be bringing in authors for you to meet. I hope
you'll stop by this week to meet and greet Michigan author Nancy Gideon.
