Though this excessive heat is trying to convince me it’s time to move on from this season, I often have a hard time letting go of summer. Spring is my favorite season, and I could love fall if I would forget that it means winter is coming. I have always said, and always meant, that I would rather be hot than cold; this is still true even though I’d rather not be quite this hot.

But I love summer gardens, or rather what comes out of them, so I have this deepseated (deepstomached?) desire to eke everything out of this season that I can. I want to keep picking and keep using the produce for as long as I can, even if it’s past its prime.

I know cucumbers this late are likely bitter; I know basil that’s flowered out isn’t as flavorful. I know corn gets too mature and starchy; I know those last little eggplants have been scalding in the sun. But I want to enjoy these fresh(ish) goods as long as I can, so I pick them as long as I’m able, and then often I leave them in the fridge for too long, just trying to savor the season.

Even as a child I liked to save and hold on to things, which is not necessarily bad, but sometimes works out detrimentally if there is a shelf life involved. I should have eaten that Easter bunny before the next Easter rolled around. I still too often do this with special things; I wouldn’t call it a scarcity mindset or treasure hoarding, but I’m sure there’s some psychological terminology for this behavior. Mangoes are my favorite food, so when I buy one, I struggle to actually cut it up and eat it in its prime, because I naturally want to save it. It’s so silly.

I even do this with my kids’ clothes, as I was considering this week stretching the onesies down to snap over Silas’s diaper. I have a thing, admittedly ridiculous as it is, where I just about can’t handle putting my children in the size bigger than their age. I somehow think that will keep them little, and would so much rather squish them into something a little too tight than move up in size and feel like they’re growing too fast. Fortunately for me, they’ve always been on the smaller side of growth charts; Benson is still in 4T and he’s five and a half.

But this Silas fellow, while not extra big, is apparently not extra small. It’s breaking my heart a little, but I’m pulling out 3m clothes three weeks early in a massive show of personal maturity; a step that values his comfort over my petulant desire to keep him tiny. Perhaps it was meeting my best friend’s 12-hour-old baby that brought the truth into focus, as holding both baby boys in my lap proved irrevocably that Silas is no longer a newborn. He is now objectively a giant, and needs clothes to match.

I know my love for my children only grows as they do. But good grief I can get so sentimental for how sweet and precious each stage is as we are leaving it.

The good news is, I am not in control. I can’t actually hold onto a season forever, whether with children or with the weather, and things will eventually change, melding — or melting, in this summer’s case — into the next one. I have to breathe into moving on, too.

We are here, and it is now. And the now is worth savoring, holding but not holding too tightly. I was right on the edge with this week’s recipe, and by the time you get ahold of it, it might be too late: there aren’t many good cucumbers left, and the corn I used was picked late and refrigerated for almost too long. But it was so delicious, so worth trying.

And it’ll be a lovely idea to hold onto — for next summer.

Creamy Corncumber Salad

For some reason I felt surprised thinking of mixing cucumbers and corn, even though they say what grows together goes together. Yet the cool crunch of the cucumber and the sweet pops of the corn are so complementary, especially when paired with the depth of red onions and richness of avocado.

I’m glad I saved my produce just long enough to make this.

Prep tips: frozen sweet corn could work in a pinch…although not frozen cucumbers.

• a knob of salted butter
• a small red onion, sliced
• corn cut from 4 ears
• 1 red bell pepper, diced
• 1 jalapeño, minced
• 1-2 cucumbers, diced
• 1 avocado, diced
• ⅓ cup plain yogurt or sour cream
• zest and juice of 1 lime
• optional: ½ tablespoon minced canned chipotles in adobo
• ½ cup crumbled feta cheese

Saute onion in butter until browning well; stir in corn and pepper, and cook a few minutes. Remove from heat, let cool a while, and stir in remaining ingredients. Salt and pepper to taste, and chill fully before serving.

Lettuce Eat Local is a weekly local foods column by Amanda Miller, who lives in rural Reno County on the family dairy farm with her husband and three small children. She seeks to help build connections through food with her community, the earth, and the God who created it all. Send feedback and recipe ideas to hyperpeanutbutter@gmail.com.