I’ll be the first to tell you I LOVE masking. I’ve enjoyed two years of not getting colds and flu bugs.  At the cafe, the girls and I have decided it is just a more hygienic way to do food service.  We see a lot of customers in the course of a day, and we feel better knowing we aren’t transferring germs to them, and we enjoy the security of working without worrying so much about picking up various illnesses.

That said, one thing I’ve learned over the pandemic is that, no matter how much I mask, my body seems to want to get sick each fall.  Two years ago around this time I got Giardia.  Last year it was Lyme disease.  And these year, finally, I managed to snag a case of Covid (Yes.  I believe joining a jazz ensemble might have had something to do with it.  I’ve been referring to my bout of Covid as my Jazz-T-D. ).

And while Bob and Ula got only marginally sick, in spite of my vaccines and boosters, I got a doozy case: days of fevers, two weeks of having to sleep upright to reduce coughing fits…the WORKS.

I think my body just plain ol’ gets fried by this point in the season, and the only way I can rest enough is with a good illness.  It would be nice to grow enough in personal wisdom some day to not make the maladies necessary, but until then, sickness will play a role in my life.

But that doesn’t mean my weeks with Covid have been without their pleasures.  I read another entire Ken Follett novel.  I got to binge on Stranger Things.  And I discovered something else.

I’ve read a lot about how Covid robs its victims of a sense of taste.  And it did effect my taste buds.  But it didn’t entirely rob them.  For whatever it took away these past few weeks, it also gave back.

I’m not a big veggie fan.  Not a big fruit fan, either.

But suddenly, fresh vegetables were the most delicious thing I’d ever tasted.  I’d find myself eating salad for breakfast, lunch, dinner and dessert.  Each time, I couldn’t stop marveling at the flavors of home-grown tomatoes and fresh bell peppers and the crisp glorious wet sensation of newly-picked lettuce, the sweet, peppery snap of red onion, the brine-y richness of cured olives.  I’d follow the salads with concord grapes, or fresh pears or a Cortland  apple.  Every bite was mind-blowing and delightful, transformative even to the point where I’d wax poetic about the spiritual gifts of this world….Call it a fevered delirium, call it Covid craziness, but WOW.  I will never forget the delight of my culinary discoveries these past two weeks.  Maybe it is because they were in contrast to the woes of illness, but I’m still just so pleased to be here, living so close to all these great sources of fruits and veggies.  And now I’ve gotta go…because I just realized there is another salad sitting here on my desk….