I love summer, especially the last few waning weeks. I love the way the landscape changes as the fog lifts from the shoreline, as though Mother Nature is letting us extend our vacation just a bit. I’ve been relishing every moment, soaking up the warm evenings, taking in the California coastline and enjoying the last remnants of al fresco dining with friends. As the locals go back to work, school and weekend sporting activities, coastal towns seem to slow down, leaving hotel vacancy signs and extra space on the sand. Foreigners and retirees flock to fill the void.

Summer’s abundance ushers in fall’s bounty in a seamless, almost effortless way, with aromatic tastes, vibrant colors and deep rich textures. The last crops of summer give one last explosion of fruit, over-ripe and brimming with flavor, while fall squash is starting to yield its’ first fruits.

I enjoyed my abundant summer; my fruit bowl spilling over on to the table. My friends scowling at it, having tended, nurtured and cajoled their gardens to no avail. I, however, planted herbs and vegetables here and there, wherever I could find a vacant piece of earth and then promptly left for Spain leaving my garden to tend to itself.  I returned some weeks later raking in an abundant crop of tomatoes, peppers, cilantro and melons.

Initially I complained that our inherited pear tree and a peach tree, planted against my will, were turning out ripened fruit faster than I could pick it. My disgruntled attitude didn’t go unnoticed by my daughter who promptly reminded me, “Hey mom, it’s like that book you used to read to me, ‘Too Many Pumpkins’, only you have too many peaches.”  I remembered that book and how I read it to her over and over again every fall. Something about it resonated with us both.

Rebecca Estella hates pumpkins because it is all she had to eat growing up. When she found an unexpected crop of pumpkins growing in her garden she vowed not to tend to them. She ignored them hoping they would die out, but instead they yielded a bounty of fruit. So Rebecca Estella, taking from those childhood meals, baked pumpkin pie, pumpkin bread and anything thing else she could from the pumpkins and shared it with her neighbors.

So that’s what I did. With a new found attitude of gratitude, I collected all those peaches and pears.  I baked them, canned them, put them on pizza and shared them with the neighbors. I delivered jars of canned pears, fresh peach pie, homemade jam and pear butter. I was blessed and I believe the recipients were as well; I received so much gratitude in return. The simple act of sharing turned my disgruntled attitude into a harvest of gratitude. Isn’t that what we are supposed to do, give back from our first fruits, returning a piece of the harvest? Using our abundant blessings to give a little joy?

That’s stewardship. That’s Thanksgiving. That’s Eucharistic.