Summer Produce

A Poetry Series

Keep scrolling for a short poem to start us off.

I never thought I’d be the kind of person to fantasize about having my own (modest) garden, but as it turns out, moving to Ohio will do that to you. Being surrounded, come spring and well into the fall, by the bounty of the land, by the freshness of seasonal produce, is nothing short of magical.

I’m no farm girl, but I’ve come to believe these things make living a little lighter––to taste the sweetest strawberries, pick the ripest blueberries, and taste the reddest of tomatoes. Not to mention the cornfields that stretch for miles, slowly filling in that flat, midwestern landscape, as the summer days fall off the calendar.

Although I can’t exactly harvest my own produce yet (#apartmentliving), this poetry series is my attempt at growing a garden using words. I thought it would be a fun experiment to write poetry centered around summer’s fruits and veggies, and my poet friend,

Claire

, has kindly agreed to go on this creative journey with me. I know we’re going to have a blast stretching our imaginations and finding unique ways to include produce into our pieces.

So, how will the series work?

Claire

and I will share a new poem every Friday via our own Substacks, each on a different seasonal fruit or vegetable. The series will end the last week of August.

The calendar is as follows:

• Blueberries or Raspberries (Friday, July 19^th)

• Tomatoes (Friday, July 26^th)

• Mangos or Peaches (Friday, August 2^nd)

• Corn (Friday, August 9^th)

• Watermelon (Friday, August 16^th)

• Summer Squash (Friday, August 23^rd)

• Cucumber or Beets (Friday, August 30^th)

We’re sharing in hopes you decide to join us in growing your very own delicious garden this summer. After all, poetry is food for the soul!

Keep scrolling for a short poem to start us off.

Summer Produce 

Freshly picked blueberries 
are a delicacy worthy 
of a heavenly feast 
and strawberry jam from the farm 
makes mana oh so sweet 
like peaches by the truckload from Georgia

and all the way in California 
the avocados ripen 
dancing in summer salads 
then homegrown tomatoes join the ballad
while figs turn purple
slowly filling up with honeyed flavor

but, even if 
the fig tree should not blossom 
and the strawberry patch 
were to yield no jam
even if 
peaches and avocados rotted
and there were no tomatoes on the vine,
nor blueberries on the bush 
surely, even then, I would

taste and see
that the Lord is good. 

-  r.e.g.