On Harvesting
Put simply, the definition of harvest is to gather. We often lump ‘season’ in with the word and concept of harvest. In agriculture, there is a season of harvest. This typically occurs when the beads of sweat that trace the face upon gardening slowly become less and less, and the first bitter taste of shortening days pricks the tastebuds.
When I made Maple Pecan Granola yesterday, I was reminded of all the harvesting I’ve done and the relief of having plenty for days when the cold lingers.
The third ingredient in this recipe was amaranth. Unfortunately, my budget didn’t quite allow for the purchase—amaranth is expensive and I wasn’t quite sure when I would use it again. It was a hard cut to make for two reasons: First, I have never had amaranth before, and secondly, I once spent a whole day harvesting amaranth.
If you are unfamiliar, amaranth is a grain of seed produced from these beautiful fuchsia inflorescences. They are a stunning plant. The stalks have veins of pink and purple that grow strong and tall as the plant nears harvest.
Over this past summer, I took care of someone’s garden while they were away. With no prior knowledge of gardening, I YouTubed my way through May, June, July, and August vegetation. It was early August when the amaranth was ready for harvest, and it was my most challenging subject yet. Rather than simple digging, picking, and plucking, my research showed there was cutting, pulling, hanging, drying, and shaking involved. The method I chose after reviewing many was this:
Cut the amaranth stalk near the flowerheads.
Gently place in a wheelbarrow (if you move too fast, the seeds will become loose and will be lost to ground).
Once all stalks are cut, hang each individual stalk upside down on wooden storage bars in a shed using heavy-duty string or twine.
Place a paper-lined wheelbarrow underneath to catch the seeds as they dry and fall.
Wait for a few months.
Now that I’m writing it out, it seems pretty simple. But trust me, it’s time-consuming.
The act of gardening is one of the most surreal acts to me. It incorporates all the senses, reminds me of my tie to the earth, and leaves me in complete awe of how these colorful and delicious edible things just pop out of dirt.
I made this granola on a rainy Sunday afternoon in early November. As I stirred, my hands were small again and I was with my momma in the kitchen making our favorite breakfast and snack. I lick bitter vanilla and rich maple syrup off my fingers and wait excitedly for the whole house to be turned into a spice cabinet. Cinnamon scent making its home into every pore of the walls. As I breathe, my muscles relax and I pick this moment from the roots and preserve it for later. A memory harvest for days when I’m older or when the rain beats too loud or when nostalgia asks for a place to stay for the night.
As my apartment soaks in the cozy smell and the Christmas tree lights glimmer proudly at their second appearance of the season, I feast on memory preserves and harvest a new memory. One of new warmth, mapley calm, and tender joy.