I fear that we are in a moment of interregnum, not a reset after our brush with Trumpian catastrophe
This weekend I ate the most incredible tomato. It was crimson red, grown in California soil and picked at the peak of summer. The flavor was so full, so rich, almost phantasmagoric – heightened by a sprinkle of chunky sea salt, fresh chopped basil, olive oil, balsamic vinegar. You took one bite and an involuntary gasp of pleasure escaped your mouth. It was heaven.
I share this because the delights of summer 2021 – the sun-kissed Santa Monica mountains, the beaches full of frolicking children, the churning blue ocean, the ripened melons and peaches and corn and tomatoes – come with a decided sense of unease. It has become impossible to look around with awe at the gifts of Nature and not wonder how much longer they will be here. It has come to this, as we brace for what looks like a fourth Covid-19 spike.