I know that you have extremely serious principles on this topic and that I should definitely not get into this pissing contest with you, because come December and January and February and March and April, when I am eating salt cod and baked beans and acorn squash you will merrily post descriptions of all of the fresh fruits and vegetables you are eating. But I still can't help myself. (And in February, at least, I'll be eating fresh shrimp, so that's something.)
This evening I sat outside and looked at the sun sparkling on the water and ate steamers and fresh corn, the steamers a little bit gritty because I hadn't soaked them enough, and the corn all sweet and crunchy and delicious. The beer was local, though the butter came from Vermont. (Our local butter is good, but I couldn't get it at the island market.) And then I went out back and picked blackberries, big and ripe and soft and yummy and finger-staining. The dogs figured out what I was after, and licked and bit the laden branches at my feet. Now, with full bellies, we are listening to the water lapping on the shore and the wind pinging the halyards on the masts in the anchorage.