OK, so I’ve been holding out on you. Not really holding out, but in the craziness and business of the past few weeks, I’ve neglected to mention the season. It’s chile time! The harvest is in, the air scented with roasted peppers. It hit me with a smoky punch the other day when I entered our local fruteria. I smelled them. I knew those peppers were in there somewhere. And yet, it took me a few minutes to actually find them, little plastic baggies of warm, charred New Mexico green chiles sitting on the counter, on sale for a couple of dollars. You bet I bought a bag! And they were H-O-T.
The little bird’s eye chiles above came from our garden. The green, from a farmer’s stand up the road. And the purple beauty was a gift from our neighbors. When we brought it home, Jerry felt inspired to take a photo with Edward Weston in mind. Food as art.
That pepper, by the way, tasted fantastic when stuffed with ground buffalo, herbs and tomatoes, then grilled over flames.
The air really does, at times, smell like roasting chiles. The wind carries the scent. All month, we’ve had perfectly crisp blue skies; 80-degree days and chilly nights. The cottonwood leaves are turning yellow on the edges. I think I like fall in New Mexico. I think September might be the most beautiful month. Maybe next year we’ll stick around a few weeks longer so we can enjoy September to its fullest. Maybe next September we’ll have our fire pit finished so we can sit beneath the stars during the season’s first sweater-weather nights.
The closer our departure, the more nostalgic I grow. This always happens. I always miss where I am before I’ve even left. And at the same time, I yearn for the places I’ve been and others I have yet to discover.