Autumn Rising

I'm standing in the kitchen, peeling skins off par-boiled cipollini when it hits me: I'm eager for fall. Maybe it's the smell of garlic and rosemary filling the room, maybe it's the rain tamping down the August sky outside my window, whatever it is, I'm left with that longing for fall. For brightly-colored leaves, for small, shapely gourds, for the weather banging at the sills.

But in all of this, what I realize is that I'm actually ready to settle in again. I want to cook great pots of food --- lamb surrounded by various root vegetables simmering in red wine; birds stuffed with citrus, carrots and onions; squash topped with butter and roasting in the oven.

In just less than two weeks I leave Washington for almost five months to serve as the Writer-in-Residence at Interlochen Arts Academy. I'm excited about the prospect of teaching creative writing and "contemporary non-American fiction." I'm a bit nervous about all those eager eyes turned in my direction. I'm so compelled by the idea of being surrounded by other writers and artists for nearly five months, and by the idea of dedicating myself to my writing (and teaching) for nearly half a year.

But, I'm also anticipating Sunday nights in my kitchen. The local foods --- venison and wild duck from my father and brother, I hope; fresh apples and so much more -- beckon. And I can't help but imagine myself some Sunday night, a month from now, cooking up a venison steak, settling in with some Walla Walla wine (yes, it's coming home with me) and curling up to read --- and celebrate the coming fall.