In Gratitude Thank you to our anonymous donor who bought me three coffees this month! I’m now 20% of the way toward my goal of covering website costs for the year. Those who want to support the podcast financially can do so at: https://www.buymeacoffee.com/culinarysaijiki/.
Join the Conversation If you’d like to be on the podcast, visit https://culinarysaijiki.com/join-the-conversation/ and fill out the form. My life is a little hectic right now, so if I don’t follow up in a timely manner, send me a reminder.
Theme Music “J’attendrai” by Django Reinhardt, performing at Cleveland Music Hall, 1939. This recording is in the public domain. Hear the whole song at https://clevelandhistorical.org/files/show/6045.
Thank you to the anonymous donor for another three coffees! I’m now 20% of the way toward my goal of covering this year’s website costs. Readers and listeners can support The Culinary Saijiki by buying a coffee at https://www.buymeacoffee.com/culinarysaijiki.
Of the 212 haiku and senryu I’ve collected so far, I only have five that mention meat. Of course, I know that there are more out there. Still, I find it interesting that on the whole, meat does not seem to show up as frequently as vegetables, fruit, eggs, coffee, tea, or sweets. While I know my fair share of haijin who are vegetarians or vegans, many of us eat meat as well. Even those of use who avoid meat in adulthood were raised with it as the foundation of the main meal. I don’t have any compelling theories as to why meat doesn’t seem to show up in haiku as often. In addition, who knows what the proportion of meat haiku will be once I have collected 1,000 poems, which is my goal.
Another thing I have noticed in my initial work is that meat appears to be an all-year word. However, historically, meat consumption is tied to the seasons. My partner, John, grew up on a farm, and I asked him to clarify the seasonal nature of slaughtering and eating meat. Pigs and cattle are normally slaughtered in autumn, after the summer heat has broken, but before winter has set in. Hunting seasons generally occur in autumn. Even freshwater fish and seafood have their ideal harvesting seasons, ranging from late spring to late autumn, depending on the species. Chickens are a bit different; you don’t slaughter a chicken and cure it to last through the winter. Poultry is more likely to be slaughtered and eaten throughout the year, though again, autumn was often a more advantageous time than others. John also noted that, in prior generations, it was common to eat a quasi-vegetarian diet (excluding rendered animal fat) for at least part of the year, usually in spring and sometimes into summer, when the previous year’s meat stores had been depleted.
Of course, thanks to refrigeration, industrial farming practices, and global trade, all types of meat are available year-round in much of the world, meaning our meat consumption is divorced from any sense of the seasons. While that’s true of produce as well, I think fruits and vegetables still retain more of a seasonal rhythm. Even if you live in a city, you can probably manage some sort of small-scale garden, which tunes you in to the seasonal nature of produce. It’s not feasible to keep a pig or cow in an urban or suburban back yard. Even those city dwellers who are able to keep chickens usually have them just for eggs. Plus, I know more than a few people who eat meat, but would prefer not to think about where it comes from. It’s easy to see how meat gets divorced from the seasons not just at the industrial level, but on a personal level as well.
cholesterol a steak through the heart
Keith Evetts, Failed Haiku Issue 70
Keith Evetts’ humorous poem relies on the pun of steak and stake, and though cholesterol and heart disease are serious issues, this piece makes me chuckle every time I see it. Perhaps the pun puts the haiku in autumn, referencing Halloween, but based on my limited knowledge of vampire fiction, they exist year-round. This is an effective senryu (or could possibly be classified as zappai), but there isn’t a clear seasonal referent.
Louise Hopewell’s senryu provides a sense of juxtaposition, between a meat-eater and their vegan dining companion. However, this doesn’t take place in a specific season. I’ve had steaks grilled outdoors in the summer, cooked in an oven in winter, and fried in a skillet just about any time of year. In fact, the method of preparation might influence the sense of a season rather than meat itself.
fish and chips in yesterday’s news yesterday’s news
Susan Spooner, Charlotte DiGregorio’s Writer’s Blog, May 28, 2022
Historically, fish and chips were wrapped in newspaper. I’ve personally never experienced this, and ostensibly, the practice has died out for hygienic reasons. Still, Susan Spooner’s poem makes excellent use of the cultural knowledge of fish and chips, and I find the repetition of the phrase “yesterday’s news” to be effective and engaging. While the cod that usually comprises fish and chips peaks in winter (Pacific Ocean) or summer (Atlantic Ocean), the dish is available year-round, and so again, given the nature of modern life, we don’t have a clear seasonal referent here.
Cat dreaming of man, Man dreaming of cat, both Craving fish fillet
Debbie Walker-Lass, Haikuniverse, May 9, 2022
Even if fish were only available at certain times of the year, you can dream about them in any season. Debbie Walker-Lass’ emphasis on dreaming takes the poem out of reality and into the world of the subconscious. You can also have a craving at any point during the year. Even if something is out of season and unavailable, you might desire it. This senryu, focused on dreams and desire, is applicable as an all-year poem.
Mother’s Day the smell of bacon from each apartment
Bob Redmond, bottle rockets Issue 46
Bob Redmond’s haiku is the only one I have collected so far that has a clear seasonal referent, but it doesn’t come from food. Redmond mentions the Mother’s Day holiday, which occurs in May, making it a spring haiku in the Gregorian calendar and a summer haiku in the lunar calendar. In this poem, multiple families are cooking bacon in celebration of the holiday, at a time of year when, historically, bacon might not have been available. Reading Redmond’s haiku in that light, a layer of profundity emerges. How amazing that we can honor our mothers with bacon . . . and, given the state of the world, let’s consider ourselves fortunate, because that might not always be the case.
As I reach the end of this post, I realize that this topic points me in a new direction for research: the ways in which certain words might once have been seasonal, but due to changes in human activity, are no longer connected to seasons. I welcome your thoughts on that!
In Gratitude Thank you to our anonymous donor who bought me three coffees this month! I’m now 13% of the way toward my goal of covering website costs for the year. Those who want to support the podcast financially can do so at: https://www.buymeacoffee.com/culinarysaijiki/.
August Open Mic Bonus Episode To participate in the August 30th open mic bonus episode, click this link: https://anchor.fm/culinarysaijiki/message. Recordings must be received by Friday, August 28th at 11:59 pm CST.
Guidelines:
Each poet is limited to two haiku
Before reading your haiku, please say your name or pen name and, if comfortable, where you’re writing from
Please read each haiku twice
Haiku should mention food, and connect to the transitional aspect of seasons, with an emphasis on autumn
Submissions that do not follow these guidelines will be disqualified
Join the Conversation If you’d like to be on the podcast, visit https://culinarysaijiki.com/join-the-conversation/ and fill out the form. My life is a little hectic right now, so if I don’t follow up in a timely manner, send me a reminder.
Theme Music “J’attendrai” by Django Reinhardt, performing at Cleveland Music Hall, 1939. This recording is in the public domain. Hear the whole song at https://clevelandhistorical.org/files/show/6045.
First, thank you to the anonymous person who bought me three coffees this month! I appreciate your support of the project, and especially for covering this year’s website costs. I’m now 13% of the way toward my goal.
This week, I got inspired to explore the connection between region and food in haiku. When I wrote primarily free verse, I loved writing about the landscapes of Texas, and I also enjoy exploring the ways in which landscape connects to food. I decided to start with the Southwest in part because that is one of two regions (the other being the Midwest) where I have lived the longest, and have detailed understanding of regional food. I’d also been rereading Lifting the Seasons: Southwestern Haiku & Haiga, and had added a number of the haiku to my Culinary Saijiki database. I decided to use it as my initial source text in my exploration of Southwestern food haiku. (There are a number of other good anthologies out there, but I didn’t have access to them this week . . . but that just means I’ll have to return to this topic again!)
As it turns out, I ran into a number of challenges with this post! I thought I was going to have any easy time talking about Southwestern food in haiku, but in fact, this was the most difficult entry I’ve done so far, which is all the more reason I’ll want to return to this topic.
1. The southwest is not a clearly delineated space. Arizona and New Mexico are the only definitive Southwest states, but parts of Texas, Oklahoma, Utah, Colorado, Nevada, and Oklahoma also get included. However, there isn’t a definitive map that delineates which portions of each state get included. For example, San Antonio is closer to Louisiana than it is to New Mexico, but the city seems more a part of the Southwest than the South. There’s a great deal of culturally and geographically liminal space that’s difficult to account for.
2. Southwestern food is not a clearly delineatedcategory. While some foods, like nopales and tamales, are clearly Southwestern, I found myself struggling with many of the crops. For example, Texas has its own types of melon and peaches, but the places where those crops are grown appear in that liminal space. In addition, changes in farming practices over the years mean that produce I didn’t initially think belonged in the Southwest does grow there. I ended up pouring a great deal of research into produce to place poems accurately!
3. Disagreeing with some of the placements of these poems.Lifting the Seasons editors Scott Wiggerman and Constance Campbell worked hard to place the poems in this anthology, and I consider Scott one of my poetry mentors. So I didn’t feel great when I came upon a poem in a certain season and found myself disagreeing with its placement. I made notes in my saijiki database about why I disagreed, and tagged the poem with both seasons. I’ve also chosen to make note of my disagreements in this post, because I don’t want to mislead people who might have already read the collection and wonder why I deviated from the original placement. Ultimately, I hope these disagreements come across as respectful. There is always debate within the haiku community; not all saijiki align with each other. Disagreement is part of the process.
4. No autumn food kigo I hadn’t already used. I prefer to not use the same haiku in multiple blog posts. When going through my database, I’d already used the best examples of Southwestern autumn food elsewhere on the blog, so I don’t have any autumn entries this week.
For more information on Lifting the Seasons: Southwestern Haiku & Haiga, visit the Dos Gatos Press website: http://dosgatospress.org/.
Spring
prickly pear salad nopales skinned and shredded— thornless spring
Katherine Durham Oldmixon, Lifting the Sky: Southwestern Haiku and Haiga, ed. Scott Wiggerman and Constance Campbell. Dos Gatos Press, 2013.
Nopales are the pads of a nopal, commonly referred to as a prickly pear. There are over 100 species of nopal in Mexico and the southwestern United States, and are a common cooking ingredient. However, the tiny spines must be removed first, and while experienced cooks can probably complete the process efficiently, many of us home cooks prefer to buy our nopales pre-skinned from Mexican grocery stores.While nopales can be in season for much of the year, spring is when they first peak. When other crops have just been planted, and the abundance of summer produce is a way off, nopales are a way to enjoy something fresh.
A nopal in Austin, Texas
across asphalt truck tires scatter grit and white pear blossoms
Sandra D. Lynn, Lifting the Sky: Southwestern Haiku and Haiga, ed. Scott Wiggerman and Constance Campbell. Dos Gatos Press, 2013.
Fruits were one of the primary challenges for me in putting together this entry. I hadn’t revisited this anthology in a number of years. I was surprised to find two haiku about pears in a book focused on the American Southwest! However, after doing some digging, I discovered that Southern California is a peach-growing region, and while the official states of the Southwest are Arizona and New Mexico, Southern California is also frequently included. I think that this haiku points to one of the challenges that practitioners and editors come across: geographical boundaries are not as well-defined as we might like. In addition, due to the ways in which humans have traveled, colonized, and globalized, a European fruit will thrive in a place not originally its home, complicating our understanding of what an appropriate kigo might be.
the pear tree’s hesitant buds— February
Sally Clark, Lifting the Sky: Southwestern Haiku and Haiga, ed. Scott Wiggerman and Constance Campbell. Dos Gatos Press, 2013.
Sally Clark’s haiku also presented me with a familiar challenge that I have not yet figured out how to reconcile: what it means to be a haiku practitioner writing in the age of the Gregorian calendar. Her haiku appears in the winter section of the anthology, which certainly makes sense for editors working in the United States. However, February is considered spring in the haiku calendar, and the image of actual buds on the tree further reinforces the spring image. Because of the presence of buds, rather than bare branches, I chose to place this haiku in the spring section.
Summer
what’s left of the moon— a slice—ripe cantaloupe— set on a chilled glass plate
Robert A. Ayers, Lifting the Sky: Southwestern Haiku and Haiga, ed. Scott Wiggerman and Constance Campbell. Dos Gatos Press, 2013.
This is the first haiku where I found myself disagreeing with the editors regarding placement. In Lifting the Sky, this haiku appears in the Winter section. However, cantaloupe is at its peak in summer, so for the purposes of this project, I have placed there. Various melons are popular in summer dishes, and make excellent agua frescas (refreshing fruit drinks) during the hottest months.
below the peach tree flipping pages in a book hummingbird flutter
Ellaraine Lockie, Lifting the Sky: Southwestern Haiku and Haiga, ed. Scott Wiggerman and Constance Campbell. Dos Gatos Press, 2013.
I spent a few hours mulling over Ellaraine Lockie’s haiku, and what season I felt it best represented. In Lifting the Sky, this haiku appears in the Spring section. Since we don’t know what state the peach tree is in, I understand the editors’ decision. However, depending on what saijiki you are using, hummingbirds are listed as either a spring or summer kigo. In my lived experience, hummingbirds tend to be more visible in the summer. In addition, unless a poet mentions blossoms or a bare tree, I picture it covered with fruit, which in that case, would make summer more appropriate.
Chris Ellery, Lifting the Sky: Southwestern Haiku and Haiga, ed. Scott Wiggerman and Constance Campbell. Dos Gatos Press, 2013.
While I debated a bit as to whether or not to keep this haiku in the winter category, as it appears in lifting the sky, a careful bit of research led me to agree that it was a winter poem. While in much of the United States, the first frost is likely to happen in autumn, in most of the Southwest, the first frost is not likely to happen until winter.
winter sunlight our neighbors bring us homemade tamales
Lynn Edge, Lifting the Sky: Southwestern Haiku and Haiga, ed. Scott Wiggerman and Constance Campbell. Dos Gatos Press, 2013.
When I lived in Texas, I knew Christmas was getting close, because people who made tamales would start taking pre-orders. Even grocery stores would do big tamale sales at Christmas! While tamales aren’t inherently a winter food (more on that below), they’re certainly a hallmark of the holiday season in the Southwest. While a Southwestern reader might not need the phrase “winter sunlight” to place the season, someone who has lived their whole life in Canada might not be aware of how tamales connect to the seasons, so I think Lynn made a good choice setting the poem explicitly in winter. Working on this project reminded me the extent to which much of haiku relies on shared cultural knowledge, and how we can’t expect every reader to have the same understanding of the world. I also don’t think that’s a bad thing. We can’t spend our whole lives limiting our writing to what we think people will understand. If haiku is the poetry of the moment, we have to write from our experience, without worrying whether or not a reader from the other side of the world will get it.
Mama’s gifts filled, wrapped, tied with care— tamales
Christine Wenk-Harrison, Lifting the Sky: Southwestern Haiku and Haiga, ed. Scott Wiggerman and Constance Campbell. Dos Gatos Press, 2013.
Tamales don’t have to just be a winter food. However, the labor-intensive process means that if you’re going to make them at home, they’re a special-occasion food . . . and a dish best made as a group. The last Christmas before COVID, John and I hosted a tamale-making party, and it remains one of my happiest holiday memories. I’m still sad I never had one more opportunity to host a Christmas tamale gathering in Texas. I associate tamales with winter holidays more than any other, and they are a gift that can last for months. With the filling wrapped in corn husks, they can be frozen and easily re-steamed (or microwaved) for a delicious meal in those last days of winter and earliest days of spring, when the holidays are long gone but things feel a little bleak.
The fruits of our labor, Christmas 2019
Cheshire cat grin between bare pecan branches— the waxing moon
Sandra Cobb, Lifting the Sky: Southwestern Haiku and Haiga, ed. Scott Wiggerman and Constance Campbell. Dos Gatos Press, 2013.
Note: In Lifting the Sky, this haiku appears in the Spring section. However, I interpret bare branches as a winter kigo, and thus have placed it as such.
Although I encountered a number of challenges while working on this post, I feel inspired to keep going with the regional theme. However, I can’t possibly be an expert on all geography-specific foods, even in my own country! If you’re interested in putting together a guest post similar to what I’ve done here, please contact me. I’ll also put up a post with formal guidelines sometime in the next week or so.
When planning this project, I decided that I would publish posts and podcast episodes on Tuesdays. Since there’s a fifth Tuesday in August, that means an extra week for content. When there was a bonus Tuesday back in May, I did a blog post in which I published community submissions around a theme. For August, I want to do a bonus podcast, again featuring community recordings.
To participate in the open mic, click the link to my Anchor voicemail box: https://anchor.fm/culinarysaijiki/message. Record your haiku according to the guidelines below. If you run into any trouble, please contact me! I want to help you record your haiku and be part of the episode. The submission deadline is Saturday, August 28th at 11:59 pm CST.
Guidelines:
Each poet is limited to two haiku
Before reading your haiku, please say your name or pen name and, if comfortable, where you’re writing from
Please read each haiku twice
Haiku should mention food, and connect to the transitional aspect of seasons, with an emphasis on autumn
Submissions that do not follow these guidelines will be disqualified
Before reading your haiku, please say your name or pen name and, if comfortable, where you’re writing from
Please read each haiku twice
Haiku should mention food, and connect to the transitional aspect of seasons, with an emphasis on autumn
Submissions that do not follow these guidelines will be disqualified
In Gratitude Thanks to the anonymous doner who bought me three coffees this weekend! They donated after I sent the podcast to be mixed and edited, so I couldn’t thank them at the top of the episode, but I will for the next one!
I forgot to mention in the intro, but this month, project supporters will get a recipe for Christine’s Mango Trio Pie.
On the blog Visit https://culinarysaijiki.com/ for long-form essays and commentary on food haiku. The most recent post is about debatable food season words. Please join the conversation and offer your insight!
Join the conversation I’m excited about the requests coming in to join the podcast! If you want to record a conversation, go to the form on the website: https://culinarysaijiki.com/join-the-conversation/
Just as there isn’t always a clear distinction between one season and the next, sometimes a haiku feels seasonal without having a clear seasonal referent. I’m not talking about haiku that completely lack a kigo. Rather, I’m thinking about haiku that seem to have a kigo, yet are not clearly grounded in an identifiable season.
There are a few reasons why a seasonal referent might not be clear:
The word that is ostensibly a kigo could plausibly fit into more than one season;
The reader’s interpretation of the potential kigo might be influenced by where they have lived;
As a whole, the haiku suggests a different season than a single word might imply
Below, I have some haiku that are currently in my summer collection, but that I’m not entirely sure about. Some of them might belong to spring or autumn, or might be better placed in the All Year category. I welcome your thoughts in the comments!
farmers’ market the queen bee makes her appearance
Victor Ortiz, bottle rockets #46
I initially placed Victor Ortiz’s haiku in the summer category because summer is peak time for farmer’s markets and fresh produce. However, markets can easily last well into the fall, with root vegetables and cruciferous greens making an appearance. When I lived in Austin, farmer’s markets would last year-round, only skipping weekends from the most inclement weather. In addition, some cities in more temperate climates have covered markets year-round.
I’m also not sure how to treat the phrase “queen bee” as a kigo. In Haiku World, “bee” is listed as a spring kigo. Jane Reichold also listed “bee” as a spring kigo in A Dictionary of Haiku Classified by Season Words with Traditional and Modern Methods. I cannot find a reference to bees in Yamamoto Kenkichi’s The Five Hundred Essential Japanese Season Words. Honeybee mating season also begins in the spring. In Ortiz’s haiku, I interpret “queen bee” metaphorically, referring to a particular type of woman making an appearance, but taking the word more literally, it could refer to spring. As a result, I’m not 100% certain whether I should keep this poem in summer or move it to spring.
a month of Sundays . . . berries rotting on the vine
Julie Schrein, First Frost #1
While berries are a summer kigo, in Julie Schrein’s haiku, we see them rotting. In addition, the opening line illustrates the passage of time. That the berries are rotting does not inherently mean that autumn has arrived. Berries that are ready earlier in the summer can rot before autumn arrives. However, autumn is the season of decay, and the clear passage of time suggests that even if autumn hasn’t fully arrived, we’re in a transitional state. I’m tempted to move this haiku to autumn, but the word “berries” is such a classic kigo that I still have it in the summer.
When I think of lavender ready for harvest, I think of Blanco, Texas, which hosts an annual festival where visitors can travel to farms to harvest their own lavender. The festival takes place in May, which is early summer in the Lunar calendar, and late spring in the Gregorian calendar (however, in Texas, it’s definitely feeling like summer already). In addition, different varieties of lavender bloom throughout the year, with some in early spring, and others late in the summer (Gregorian)/early fall (Lunar). I haven’t moved this haiku out of the summer category yet, but I wonder if lavender isn’t best specified by the type it is (True/Common, Spanish/Butterfly, Fringed/French) in order to best place it in a specific season. That being said, given the minimalist tendencies in English-language haiku, poets might not want to add an additional modifying word . . . though if they’re aiming to be as specific as possible, that might be the most pragmatic choice.
“Sunset” is listed as an all-year kigo in Haiku World, but appears as a summer kigo in A Dictionary of Haiku Classified by Season Words with Traditional and Modern Methods. (I can’t find reference to it in The Five Hundred Essential Japanese Season Words.) By that logic, I should move Tony Williams’ haiku to the spring section. However, dining outdoors reminds me more of summer than of spring, when the late nights and dry weather are more conducive to outdoor dining. I think this is an example in which the whole of the haiku creates the season, rather than a specific word.
As mentioned above, in the established saijiki I’m working with, “sunset” is either an all-year kigo or a spring kigo. However, I associate rose wine with summer, especially because frose (frozen rose) was a trendy summer millennial drink a few years ago. While “sunset” as a kigo might be ambiguous, to me, “rose” is not . . . However, that might be my own biases and preferences talking.
I look forward to your thoughts and suggestions! Even if you disagree with me, I hope the explanation of my thought process has been interesting.
A burger and sweet potato tater tots from The Shack restaurant
In my penultimate Austin recording, I sat down with Claire Vogel Camargo at her home in Austin, Texas. We met after my final meeting with the Austin Haiku Study group. Claire and I talked at length about how food connects us to family, and her haiku brought up memories that led to fund stories and digressions. I hope you enjoy our rambling, free-form conversation.
I need help with sound editing for episode 4! If you know of any sound editors who have room in their schedules, please send them my way!
I would like a dedicated theme song and transition sound for the podcast. If you know of anyone who would like to compose, please let me know. Or, if you know how to navigate the overwhelming amount of public domain content and want to help, reach out!
This month, I wanted to do something more in line with a saijiki such as William J. Higginson’s Haiku World: An International Poetry Almanac. While in many posts I’ve been listing all the seasons in sections, this time, I want to just focus on summer food kigo. Summer is one of the peak times for produce, and that really comes through in the haiku I’ve collected so far.
Tomatoes
All. Depending on where you live, tomatoes can start fruiting as early as May (early summer in the Lunar calendar, late spring in the Gregorian calendar) and last until October. Heirloom or conventional, green or red, tomatoes are a staple summer food.
at summer’s end green tomatoes . . . heating the frying pan
Kathleen Tice, [poetry pea]
Berries
Mid-Late. Berry brambles tend to start fruiting in June, and depending on the berry and geography, peak in July or August. If you’re trying to forage for wild berries, you have to check caches regularly. It’s a waiting game, but once they’re finally ready to harvest, the season seems all too fleeting. When foraging for wild berries in Illinois, my partner and I have occasionally missed the peak harvest by a matter of days.
our talk of the patriarchy a buck strips a bush of its berries
Peaches.Mid-Late. Depending on location, peach trees usually start to fruit in June, and can last until October. They’re a popular summer dessert, whether fresh with cream, or baked into a pie. While the state of Georgia (USA) is one of the most best-known places for peaches, Illinois, Missouri, and Texas also have excellent varieties.
slicing a peach . . . the color of my cancer ribbon
Cherries. All. Different varieties of cherries connote different parts of the summer season. Sweet cherries tend to fruit from May to August, while tart cherries often don’t make their appearance until June. They’re another fruit that does well as a dessert, enjoyed either fresh or baked into a pie.
Photo by Susanne Jutzeler, suju-foto on Pexels.com
from the same tree my wife and sparrow lunch cherries
Zrinko Šimunić, Haikuniverse, June 15th, 2022
Mango. All. Due to globalization, fresh mangos are often available in grocery stores year-round. The first time I ever encountered a mango was at a grocery store in Austin, in the middle of February . . . and they were on special. However, in their actual climate, mangoes fruit as early as May and usually last until August.
first bite of mango summer flowing down my chin
Rick Daddario, Charlotte DiGregorio’s Writer’s Blog, May 11, 2022
eating sticky rice with mango holiday romance
Louise Hopewell, Failed Haiku #76
Miscellaneous Produce
Basil.All. Basil is a popular herb to enjoy in the summer. It pairs nicely with the aforementioned tomatoes as part of a Caprese salad or bruschetta for a light summer meal. As it moves toward the transition stage of its life cycle, it starts to produce flowers, which need to be pinched back if you want to keep harvesting the leaves.
basil blossoms a door closes behind me
Eufemia Griffo, Seashores, November 2021
Melon. All. As with much of the other produce mentioned here, when specific melons are in season depends on variety and geography (not to mention climate change). However, in general, a melon can be ready to harvest as early as May, and the season last through the summer into September. Watermelon is popular at summer picnics, wrapped in proscuitto as part of an antipasto spread, or blended into an agua fresca.
even here battered by red dust the melon’s coolness
An assortment of foraged wild mushrooms, including porcini, chicken of the woods, and chanterelle
Mushrooms. All. Realistically, it might be better to list mushrooms as an all-year word, and use specialized names to denote the season, as mushrooms have a wide growing season, depending on variety. I initially placed mushrooms in summer because of the abundance of porcini, chicken of the woods, and chanterelle mushrooms John and I harvest in July and August. However, morels are in season in mid-late spring, and many Japanese varieties are at their best in the fall. What are your thoughts? Let me know in the comments!
Wild grapes. Late. Like mushrooms, wild grapes might better be considered a multi-season kigo, with specific varieties use to specify the season. I initially chose late summer based on my own memories of seeing wild grapes fruiting and being eaten later in the summer on bird counts with the Travis Audubon Society. However, there are also varieties of grapes, both wild and domestic, that come into season during fall and winter. Again, I welcome your thoughts and suggestions in the comments!
between the birds and me the wild-grape hulls are empty
Zucchini. Mid-Late. Zucchini usually comes into season in June, and can fruit well into August. It’s known for being particularly abundant with relatively little effort, with households sometimes struggling to use it all up or give it away to neighbors. Zucchini bread is a popular way to use excess crop.
Let me know in the comments if you enjoyed this format and would like to see more of it! In addition, if you know of someone who could help me with sound editing problems for the August 2nd podcast episode, please let me know!
Note: The theme music and transitions have changed because the ones I was using from my hosting service are suddenly no longer available. I discovered this at the proverbial 11th hour, so had to make do with new stock sounds. Hopefully that didn’t cause too much confusion. If you know of anyone who enjoys writing music and cues for podcasts, please let me know!
