August in the garden

We made our weekly visit to the Growers Market in West Chester this morning. The air was cooler than it was last week, but not quite cool enough for a sweater. The farmers are still selling tomatoes and peaches and corn, peppers and onions and eggplants, cucumbers and melons and plums. It's too early for fall crops, but I did notice some cabbage sneaking into the stalls.

Tonight for dinner, I'm looking forward pan-seared scallops with a salad of tomatoes, peppers, and cucumbers. We can dine alfresco, with a glass of crisp white wine. We can listen to the cicadas chirping and watch the fireflies. Maybe we'll see a few woodpeckers at the bird feeder next to the deck.

We are in the second half of August, so summer is coming to a close. We will certainly have more sweltering days here in the Philadelphia suburbs, but the nights will be cool enough to sleep with windows open under a blanket.

It's a melancholy time. Summer is about youth, but fall is middle-aged. It's easy to forget the calendar in the dog days. The shorter days remind me of my mortality.

But we still have a month of summer. To end tonight's meal, I'm going to make a peach gallette, easier than a pie but just as tasty. We should enjoy the time we have, after all.