Every Sunday, my friend Jenn and I get together to cook for the entire week. Usually, there's a recipe that fortuitously calls for wine and so we have a glass each as we move around the kitchen; a graceful dance that we've perfected over the last year. As we get into the Spring, and the sun peeks out from behind the clouds, a certain magic starts to happen.

Ooooohhh asparagus we croon at the market; oh look at the rhubarb or the strawberries or....In those small exchanges, when I'm appreciating every moment's uniqueness based solely on what food is locally and seasonally available, I feel a deep connection to the earth and to all the world's cooks.  Inevitably, my mind meanders to Europe and to the beautiful food markets. And, I'll quickly start to plan my next trip.

Those meanderings of the mind were stopped short during the eruption of Eyjafjallajokull, and its lingering aftermath. Travel, that we sometimes take so for granted, and the distances between us suddenly seemed insurmountable. Yes, there is a large ocean between us, I thought with a kind of surprise. But other, subtler aspects of our lives were also affected by that volcano. Pineapples, I read, were in scarce supply in England and people were truly upset about it. This tropical fruit that perhaps as little as a decade ago was still considered rare in Europe, is now assumed to be readily available; any time of year, anywhere in the world. Some food, however, was still easy to get: that food that came from a local farmer and was seasonal.

I won't claim that I wouldn't miss mangos if I suddenly couldn't get them, but I will say that there was a part of me that appreciated the sound I heard of nothing at all when air travel came to a halt. The quietness that comes when you realize the great wealth of what is nearby and the wonder of the world both outside your window and across the ocean.

I am in no way diminishing how frightened some stranded travelers were, or the heartache of a well-planned trip being sidelined by forces outside of our control, but I wanted to take a moment and just appreciate what Eyjafjallajokull brought us if we were open to it: an appreciation of the great gift of travel, the curiosity and wonder of a world that keeps us exploring, and all of our very local treasures.

Wishing you bountiful harvests,