My heart is so full I can't sleep. It is the early morning after the evening of the Summer Strings concert. So many people came to hear our music. I enjoyed so much connected time with the musicians and composers over the last week. I will share one more thing. Here is a story about banana squash that I wrote for the program.

Gratitude and Summer Strings

 photo taken on the Bickford Brooke Trail.

This has been a summer of abundance for me. I've had time to garden, hike, take pictures of mushrooms, and even go swimming on occasion. These days I wade through the rampant greenery of the garden and marvel that there is so much to bring, so much to share. Some of it I didn't even plant.

The banana squash plant with our
stone wall in the background to
show you how giant it is.

Early in the season, when I was first breathing deeper with the relief of a too-busy schedule finally easing off, I noticed a very vigorous squash plant volunteering itself out of my compost pile. I transplanted it to what was left of my husband's gift to me on the occasion of my 50^th birthday—a truckload of real horse manure. In its new, rich location, this squash began growing with an energy I can only admire on most days. It had the upright habit of a zucchini and dark green leaves. I did not know or really care how its fruit would look or taste; its vigor simply brought me joy on every garden tour I made. It was the first of my garden plants that I could really see from my kitchen window. It bloomed early. One day, there was a zucchini-shaped object underneath its large triangular leaves. A few days later I brought it in.

The fruit of  the banana squash

My husband asked “is that a banana?!” In fact, the fruits of this squash look a bit like green bananas—slightly curved and slim. I chopped the garlic and heated the oil and we had our first taste of summer that day. Now “banana squash” make an appearance on the table several times a week. I laugh aloud to think of how they came unbidden to my garden and now are taking it over.

I've been trying to learn, lately, to trust the universe to keep bringing me the abundance I need. The banana squash and Summer Strings are evidence that my trust is well-placed. This concert and our festival could not have come to be without the volunteer energy of many people. Christ Episcopal Church's community offered us the space. The players all volunteered their time and careful attention to detail. Many of them drove long distances repeatedly—a sign of commitment if there ever was one. Significant donations from the Music as Meditation listeners made tuning the piano, posters, and programs possible. Help from Ken Turley and Bill Marvel made the picnic timely and fun. All this to bring to fruition music that itself arrives in composer's ears in a mysterious fashion, volunteering itself for our joy.

I don't know what is behind the mystery of this abundance. Why is this particular strain of zucchini so sweet and prolific? Why is that particular musical phrase so compelling and satisfying? I only know I am grateful to be part of this stream of abundance—and I know that the fruits of our time and attention are meant to be shared.