The sun has been shining for enough days that people are turning on their irrigation, or saying, “We could really use some rain.” The daffodils, the surest and brightest sign that winter ended, came and went. On Saturday night, a mash of friends and I roasted hot dogs, tempeh and ribs over a charcoal grill. There was a campfire and music- mostly mixed reggae and bluegrass (an introduction to me of the band Old and in the Way), and towards the end of the night, Michael Hurley, a true companion to a glowing crescent moon and clear stars. Someone brought an excellent kale and other early spring vegetable salad. I made a vanilla cake with raspberry buttercream, using raspberries I picked and froze last summer. It felt, on the ride home, as we discussed the upcoming cake walk (!), that we officially moved into that slippery season where there are a lot of outdoor days and nights ahead, but it’s already happening quickly enough to seem hard to catch.

For the past few years I’ve collected summer fruits and put in them in the freezer for later usage. Winter can overflow with quiet moments, and it’s only logical to store the fleeting components of strawberry-rhubarb pie for days of less produce and more time.

Spring has arrived, with it’s edible flowering, leafing and budding glory, and my freezer (and assorted other freezers), has yet to be emptied of the food stuffed in it. (Or hoarded? Or maybe simply had to ignore on frozen days when only chocolate and citrus would suffice.) I am hurriedly making raspberry delights (a.k.a. raspberry chip ice cream), attempting to clear the slate for the ever-growing bounty headed my way. In this hustle, I am realizing that the squirreled away food (once potential creations, now clutter in my life), is a physical expression of the overwhelmed feeling I experience after reading one too many food blogs and can’t decide which rhubarb pie recipe to make. (Or should I make rhubarb cake? Or rhubarb popsicles? What about rhubarb-ginger pie? Rhubarb-pecan pie? RHUBARB-GINGER-PECAN PIE WITH ICE CREAM? What kind of ice cream?)

There’s an unsettled feeling that comes from too much of anything. Sometimes it’s just a stomach-ache. But other times it’s a deeper sense that less really is more. Blueberries are excellent frozen. I use them weekly in smoothies and can make my grandmother a pie anytime of year. Blackberries stay plump with summertime heat and perfume, I recommend keeping at least a few pounds for crisps and magic. All those plums, cherries and peaches? They’re still waiting to be made into one of a multitude of tarts, scones and cobblers I likely dreamt of on a day full of weeding and transplanting and sitting on the cool grass, watching clouds or nothing at all.

For me, preserving food, similar to growing, cooking and eating food, is about creating sustenance, enjoyment and the opportunity to share with others. The moments of being with other people, with a few good snacks and pleasant weather are sometimes as rare as finding cherries in Maine. Instead of more recipes, I’d like more togetherness. A bowl of strawberries with whip cream doesn’t need a thousand variations; it needs a table, an oak tree to set under, and some folks to gather round.

All photos credited to Nora P. Carr. I recommend following her for more pictures of things.