...

Today I drank Strawberry Basil White tea. Though the taste of strawberry felt odd and out of place in December, I drank it—and found myself craving blueberry lemon cake to go with it. The berries folded in the batter and topping the cake, dusted with powdered sugar, and crowned with a healthy dollop of freshly whipped cream. I craved the freshness of summer fruit on the Winter Solstice. And though yes, I could easily acquire blueberries for cake, fresh or frozen, I wanted to luxuriate instead in the wanting—relishing the idea of something that belongs to another season. Imagining continuing to make lemon poppy seed cakes. Cakes with warm spices and brown sugar whipped cream. Little apple pies with flaky crusts, and red velvet cake, tangy with buttermilk and cream cheese icing.

I feel tired of living in a time when we can have everything, all at once, at any time. I yearn to crave. I long for each day to reflect the rhythms of the moon, my body, the bounty of the land, the birds singing, and even the insects annoying me. So much feels unnatural lately. Nothing feels rooted in a sense of place, and I take everything for granted. I remember vividly, as a child, eagerly waiting for a song to play on the radio. Or for Abuela to make pasteles para las Navidades. Or for a movie to air on TV or become available to rent. Everything felt special and precious.

So in the end, as delicious as blueberry cake is, it will be sweeter if I wait and savor my craving until summer is upon us.

If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant: if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome.
– Anne Bradstreet (The Works of Anne Bradstreet)