An August Invitation (and an Ode to Tomatoes)

Join me for a free virtual autumn equinox event, plus a brand new exclusive to Substack poem

Friends, I’m so excited to invite you to a free virtual autumn equinox celebration on Sunday, September 22nd at 7:30 pm ET! Last summer, the absolutely wonderful Amanda Lauricella - a fellow poet who just happens to be my beloved sister - co-hosted a virtual poetry event, and we loved it so much, we’re doing it again!

Amanda and I will be reading some seasonal poetry and taking time to intentionally welcome the fall equinox. In addition to reading some poems from both our collections, we will be sharing conversations with each other (and hopefully with YOU!) about what it means to exist in the thin places between the seasons, and getting curious about what the shifting seasons might teach us about navigating change in our own lives.

Won’t you join us as we gather in community to mark the shifting of the seasons?

Feel free to register for the free event by messaging me on Substack via the button below or emailing me at theperpetualvisitor@gmail.com. Please share the graphic below with anyone you would like to bring with you - the more, the merrier!

It’s the end of August, and as I stubbornly refuse to surrender the last three weeks of summer, I can’t deny that I fell my mind and heart wandering to the months ahead, and the shifts they will inevitably bring. The quality of the light is beginning to shift at this point in the summer, the morning air is noticeably crisper than it was in July, and I’ve been taking the time to pore over all my photographs of this summer’s glimmers, a few of which I plan to share in next week’s newsletter.

Recently I’ve made it my mission to reduce food waste and use what I have in my vegetable crisper before heading to the store for dinner supplies. Thankfully the gorgeous produce boxes we get twice a month from Siena Farms in Sudbury make this a delicious challenge to take on.

Last week, at a loss of what to cook for dinner, I cut up the last of the roast chicken and was delighted to find a pint of the most beautiful orange cherry tomatoes just waiting to be rescued from the corner of the crisper (admittedly, after patiently participating in a photo shoot one of my Grandma Louise’s china bowls). Half a red onion, one clove of garlic, a dash of sea salt, and a good glug of olive oil later, we dug into a homemade tomato sauce over gluten free gnocchi.

To me, unexpected riches from the simplest of seasonal gifts is the potential that each summer brings. Ripe tomatoes, sweet corn with just enough crunch, and sun warmed raspberries eaten right out of your palm. These natural pleasures remind me of one of my favorite verses of poetry:

As someone who is working through therapy to reparent myself, I might have to print this poem out and hang it where I can see it everyday. Either that or tattoo it on my forehead.

Though warmer weather has me wanting to be outside more often than at my computer, I’ve still been scribbling a few poems here and there, and this new one feels particularly fitting for the last week of August. It’s in draft form, but as I wrote last week, I am reserving the right to share things I make in the messy middle.

Untitled August Poem

August - 

she is greedy - 

gobbling up all the tomatoes at once,

her mouth full of delicious bruises -

heavy purples and swollen reds and fragile golds -

her crooked teeth popping their secrets

in secret,

as if she could devour the sun