Ripe with possibility...
I spent this summer in search of pluots. I exhausted every farmer's market and roadside stand. In search of that perfectly irresistible combination. A delightful mingling of textures, flavors, sensations - plump yet firm, sweet yet tart, crisp yet subtly soft.
Biting into one of summer's jewels embodies the tastes, smells and sounds of all things summer.
Bursting. Overflowing. Mouth watering.
Time is fleeting...
Yet today is the first day of autumn. The pluots have come and gone. I am in search of something seasonal and ripe. Something to sink my teeth into. But how to tell when life's fruits are truly ready for me to enjoy them? Timing is everything.
My grandfather once demonstrated to me the art of determining if the persimmons on his tree were ripe to perfection. Simply put, it's all about the touch. He gently raised his index finger and touched the sweet, softness of skin along his cheek, just before the jaw bone.
This is a place of tenderest skin without the skeletal structure of bone or muscle beneath. A delicate and unrecognized indentation on the topography of facial features that render us distinct. Have you ever touched that softest of places upon your own face? Or have you dared to feel that ripeness in another?
I choose to harvest the fruits from my every experience. I relish the juiciness of life's pleasures. Extracting the essence from every moment. Savouring each distinct flavor, taste, sound, aroma. Noticing the delicious discomfort that surges through me as one season fades and another blossoms.
Where do you find the juicy, flavorful bits of life? What awakens this unbounded liveliness within you? What stirs for you this eagerness that NOW is the time...or the knowing that stillness and patience will bring that which time has perfected?