If you’ve been here long enough, you know the routine. Winter gives way to spring, finally, which is followed gently by summer, which glides gently into the season of getting rid of zucchini. During those tense few weeks, neighbors and even strangers are afraid to make eye contact, lest a zucchini gets tossed, like some baby that you have to catch. And then it’s yours. And you, likewise, belong to the zucchini.
Where I live in the northern Rockies, zucchini season often aligns with fire season. In need of fresh air a couple weeks ago, I took my family to the Pacific coast, where we were able to escape the smoke. But not the zucchini.
