First. The bad of garlic and onions in the pantry begins to have more green than papery yellow and white. The green reaches up, eager for new life. Then. The potatoes in the canvas bags begin to see more and more as their eyes multiply. At last. You go to grab your coat from the hall closet, and something smells less like wool coats and more like the earth. An acorn squash has been all but forgotten in the dark cool space. Although mostly keeping it’s solid cured skin, a soft spot is apparent as you roll the heart shape in your hands.

It’s so longer a simple matter of chopping the garlic and peeling the potatoes. The labor increases in winter, just as it is no simple matter getting out of the house. First the boots, the long johns, three layers and a coat. Chop the onions, carefully remove the green and rotten layers, Carve out the eyes of the potatoes. Pare over rotten pieces of squash. The feast gets smaller.  Scrape. Off the cutting board, into the compost. But we’ll meet again.

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