A beginner’s mind to greet midsummer solstice
…and a recipe for carrot top pesto that’s of the moment
Today has always been my least favourite day of the year.
How can that be? After all, this is the official start of summer. We long for it and here it is, glorious, longed-for, treasured. Delightful days of sunshine, the abundance of nature, lazy sultry afternoons, cottage visits and lake swims.
Midsummer melancholy
If it seems overly dramatic to worry about the end when the beginning is just here, call it my contrarian mind. I’ve always greeted summer solstice with bittersweet anticipation. I can both be fully in the moment, squeezing out every drop of joy from the season as if it were a big fat juicy lemon, and at the same time dreading the slow, imperceptible shortening of days by inches that the summer solstice signals.
Until suddenly it’s September: the sun is setting earlier, I’m rushing back to routines and rituals, and Christmas is a whisper away.
But that was then, in a time that seems like a lifetime ago. This is a very different summer. Because unlike any summer before it, we’re finally emerging into a new and different place. In this brave new world, all bets are off. How we reintegrate into life’s rich pageant will require an openness that will seems very far from the closed lives we’re emerging from.
Why not approach it with a beginner’s mind?
The beginner’s mind
…having a beginner’s mind means having an attitude of openness, eagerness, and freedom from preconceptions when approaching anything. Beginner’s mind is actually the space where the mind does not know what to do. It is that delicious state when you are sure of nothing, yet completely fearless, totally available to the moment.
It seems that I’ve been having many more conversations lately about what the future will be like, and more specifically, how we’ll act in that future. Some are rewriting their bucket list and list of friends, prioritizing each with a discriminate eye. Dinner parties of four seem more desirable than a group of eight; at the same time, some are already planning the reinstatement of holiday gatherings that have too long been shelved.
Most of all, “I would like to” is becoming “I am going to,” as the putting off of those things that stir our passions suddenly seems foolish.
As we shed our old skins and take a deep breath, there are still many unanswered questions for me about how I’ll be different, what I’ll prioritize, what will be left behind and what will start. But, beginning with this shortest of nights, I’m going to approach the days ahead totally available to the moment.
Carrot Top Pesto
from A Girl and Her Greens, by April Bloomfield
makes about 1 cup
If you ask most people what their favourite midsummer fruits and vegetables are, you wouldn’t be surprised to hear the usual suspects: asparagus, rhubarb, sugar snap peas, green beans, strawberries. But have you ever looked for the first early season carrots? Small and sweet, with the most delicate of green tops, these are not your root cellar standbys.
When I saw these beauties from Footsteps Organics at the farmers’ market this weekend, I immediately knew what I wanted to make. Carrot top pesto is super easy, and has a fresh and more subtle flavour than its assertive basil cousin. This recipe, from one of my favourite cookbooks, pairs the pesto with roasted carrots and burrata cheese. Me, I like it just fine with those sweet little baby carrots. Or try it smeared on toast, with ricotta cheese. Either way, those carrots are of the midsummer moment.
4 cups lightly packed young carrot tops, stems discarded, washed and chopped
1 teaspoon Maldon or other flaky sea salt
1 medium garlic clove, peeled and cut in half
1 small handful cup basil leaves
½ cup walnuts
1 ounce (28 grams) parmesan cheese, grated
½ cup extra virgin olive oil
In a food processor, pulse the carrot leaves and basil until coarsely chopped and combined. Add the salt, garlic, walnuts, and parmesan and pulse until coarsely ground. With the food processor running, slowly add the olive oil in a steady stream and purée into a smooth pesto.
Lovely thoughts dear friend…